The Snake and the Dragon (A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)
by pottiehead101
Summary: Lia has always been different. Raised together with Harry Potter, she soon finds that her ancestry is unlike anything she could have expected. A power lies dormant in her blood, and with it the key to ending Voldemort's devastation. Will you join her as she grapples to accept her budding love for the one she cannot have, and uncover the secrets in her past? Canon except for OC.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and all characters (except OC's) belong to the talent J.K. Rowling.**

 **A/N: For the purpose of this fanfiction, please pretend that Harry Potter and the Cursed Child does not exist.**

 **Prologue:**

" ... Please. It is all I ask of you."

The woman trembled as she slumped to her knees. Her head was bowed, a pair of slender white hands held together, under shivering lips, as if in prayer. A great burden seemingly weighed upon the frail shoulders, and it seemed to be only with great struggle that she was able to beseech the wizard. The tears splattered upon the dirt floor, water gliding down her sharp cheekbones, mingling with the sweat and grime already encrusted there.

Finally, with exertion, she stared up at the man with the half-moon spectacles - the man named Albus Dumbledore.

"He's coming," she said in a faint whisper. "He's coming." Her voice grew louder. She shuddered, like a thought too horrible to dwell on had crossed her mind. "Please. I beg you." Letting out a pained breath, the woman shut her lids for a brief moment.

Unable to sob no more, grim resolve gripped her. Her eyes wandered restlessly, until they fell and focused upon the tiny baby with the dark wisps of hair that lay in ignorant bliss on a tattered pram nearby.

"He senses her power." She shifted her gaze back to Dumbledore. "He wants her, now more than he's ever wanted anything."

"Is she?"

The glistening silver gathered in the corner of her eyes again. She nodded once. Bitterly. Forlornly. Even the small movement radiated out her guilt. It was the ceaseless, encumbering guilt of a mother who believed herself to have failed her child.

"It happened. The transfer's complete. She's been marked"

"Then everything we feared has come to pass."

"Now you see. Don't you? You must!" A frantic, almost mad glint took over her eyes. "You know why you have to protect her. It's imperative."

Dumbledore stepped away, moving towards the infant lying restlessly in the pram. As he peered over the tiny girl, molten gold eyes bore back at him. Even at only a year old, there seemed to be an intelligence, a mischief beyond her years hidden in those eyes. He could almost feel the magic rolling off her in soft undulating waves. But there was a darker hint to the purity of the child. He knew that the shadow was her father's mark.

Suddenly, a hand reached out. Tiny baby fingers latched onto his finger. He watched, in quiet wonder, as the cut on his hand slowly healed and closed over. The girl looked back at him, a gurgling laugh ringing in the air.

"It is too soon, Alyssia," he said, turning to the woman. "I know you wish to protect her, as any mother would, but you need to go back. The process is not yet complete. To finish it, is the only way she will ever be safe. The only way we will stand a chance at destroying him. The only way that he may ever recognise the error of his ways."

Alyssia grimaced. She had known that those words were coming. Of course, she had to do her duty. Of course, she had to let Daliah suffer first. Suffer so that when the storm had all but passed, she could have a chance at happiness, at a normal life.

There was no other way.

"I'm not afraid," she said suddenly. "Of death, I mean. You should know that. I welcome it. To be away. Away from all the … memories. The pain. The betrayal." A thousand years of despair filled her eyes.

"I would have died months ago, if not for her," she gestured towards the baby. "It is only for her that I seek you tonight. Just … just. Promise me. I want nothing else. I need nothing else. Promise me that when … when it's over. When it has been done. That you'll care for her. Make sure she's safe. Make sure she's healthy. Make sure she breathes until the time comes when she will fulfil her destiny."

Albus thought back to the child. Even as a baby, he could tell that she would grow up beautiful, just like her parents. And even in that split second when the blue eyes had met the gold, he had felt it. A stirring inside him. He knew that he should have felt uneasy at the black magic that was imprinted on such an innocent soul, but the eyes that had glanced back had been pure, as if the fire that lingered in the depths had melted away the darkness of her father's stain.

Dumbledore's eyes met the woman's. They were the same shade of gold as the child's - although, whilst hers were steeled and dull from years of suffering, the youngster's had been radiating joy and mischief.

"She's powerful," he said.

"I know," the woman gave a proud smile in the direction of the pram. It lit up her face; showing a window, a small remnant to the beauty she had once retained. "She and Harry are our last hopes." She swallowed. "They'll be good together. A force to be reckoned with."

Her eyes sought his once again. "Will you do it, Albus? Will you accept a mother's final plea for her daughter?"

There was a tense, scrutinising silence. Broken - when he nodded his head.

She let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you." Rising, she gently picked up the infant and placed her in her arms with the most tender touch.

"I have to go," she said turning to leave. But at the last minute, her steps faltered, as though something prevented her from moving.

She glanced back. "She will hate me. Hate her parents when she knows." She sighed, looking down. "But what can I do? How can I make her understand?"

A frustration and hopelessness took over her. But then, her expression cleared up, a lightbulb turning on in that sharp mind. "Of course. How could I not have thought of this earlier?" She placed the wand to her temple and drew out a silvery strand, placing it lightly into a bottle that she delved out of her robe pocket. "Give her this, when she's old enough." With one hand held on the back of her neck, she unclasped a necklace, a glistening pendant hung off the chain. "My necklace, as well."

As she disapperated with the child, still holding the bottle of memories in one hand and the gold necklace in the other, Albus's heart contracted at the sight of her resolute expression. There was no sign of fear, no sign of regret, despite the pain and torture she was about to endure. It seemed that her last wish, had truly been for the safety of her daughter.

He wondered at what was to come in the future. Wondered at what would happen to the golden-eyed girl, with the selfless mother and the ruined father, who seemed still untouched by the evil that been unwillingly attached to her.


	2. Introduction (Year 1)

Lia had been having a rather eventful month.

First, it had been that curious incident at the zoo, in which she had found out that by some strange miracle, she and Harry could somehow communicate with snakes. It was an incident that still left her dumbstruck with shock, pondering whether or not her life was simply an enormous dream. Or maybe she was going crazy. Madness was in her genes, after all. Petunia always said Lily was a crazy old bat.

She'd thought that her questionable sanity might have derived from the lack of interaction she had with anyone whose last name wasn't Potter or Dursley.

Her aunt and uncle's unwavering dislike of Harry and her, limited the amount of friends that she was able to make. For instance, the kids at school were typically split into two groups. They either ignored the Potter twins as if they were invisible, or they were awful bullies with harassing the two. She wasn't sure which was worse, for Lia hated getting the cold-shoulder.

She supposed that she couldn't really blame any of them.

Lia was a bit of a peculiar girl - and try as she might, she wasn't exactly the friendliest person in the world. As Piers put it, she had a strong case of 'resting bitch face'. She tried to be nice. She tried to be kind. But her mouth was always getting her into trouble, and sometimes she couldn't hold back the witty retorts.

She didn't think she was _that_ bad.

For, she only hated a limited number of people, just four: Piers Polkiss, Dennis, Malcom and Gordon.

They all went to St. Gorgory's; a primary school that Lia attended with her cousin, Dudley. To be honest, she didn't even hate Dudley. Of course, he was a fat, ugly and spoiled brat. She had called him that once to his face. It had been immensely satisfying, even though she was locked in her laundry room turned bedroom for a week.

No … Dudley was a product of his parent's incessant pampering and reluctance to give the boy any form of actual discipline. God. He could really use a smack to the bum sometimes.

She didn't even hate her aunt and uncle.

Sure, they mistreated her. They mistreated Harry. But she had never felt truly threatened there. I mean, she supposed she could say that they were emotionally and verbally abused, but they had never raised a hand to them. They fed her. Clothed her. And well … that was about it.

Sometimes, she thought that they had to hate her, with the disdain that they treated her with, but then she'd catch her aunt looking at Harry with an odd sort of expression - jealously mixed in with some look of nostalgic reminiscing. Perhaps about their mother. She'd heard Petunia say once that Harry had Lily Evan's green eyes.

She hadn't meant it as a compliment, in her mind she and Harry were certainly not deserving of any sort of praise, but her brother had walked around with a ridiculous grin on his face for a whole month, and wouldn't stop checking himself out whenever he saw his reflection in the mirror.

It had been disturbing.

When she was younger, she had asked her aunt about who she looked more like: her father or her mother. To which Petunia had turned an unappealing shade of bleach white, seemed to shiver, even though it was hot out, and her eyes had taken on a faraway look, as if she were recollecting a memory.

"Neither," she'd responded curtly. "You look more like the devil, if you ask me. The devil. Not right you are … abnormal … just like your parents were." Her words had lacked their usual conviction and scorn though.

Sometimes she caught her aunt looking at her with a fearful expression. As if she were scared that Lia might blow up, and slaughter her whole family in the blast.

She didn't know why.

Lia was relatively nonviolent. Harry's temper was _much_ worse.

But Petunia and Vernon had always been less intense with their bullying towards her than they were to Harry. They seemed unwilling to face what would happen if they pushed her too far. But really? How dumb and pathetic would they have to be, to be scared of a ten-year-old girl? She was wilted and scrawny from the lack of nutrients they gave her. She couldn't imagine being able to inflict any damage on them.

Well, that might have been a lie. There had been that time of course.

Remember those four people Lia hated?

Well, one day in March they'd all thought that it would be 'funny' if they went ahead and played a joke on her and Harry. A dangerous one. Where they'd gone and thrown rocks at her brother, until his skin blossomed with purple bruises. And the names they called him.

She didn't mind too much what they said to her. She was fine with it all. She knew she was smarter than them anyway, and destined for better things then that bag of plump cowardly tyrants - they'd were so dim that they'd probably end up begging on the streets.

But no one messed with Harry.

Her brother did annoy her. They had always been quite different. He was impulsive, she schemed; he was kind, she was venomous to those who irked her; he liked blue, she always loved silver; his eyes were bright green, hers were a gold, that turned molten when passionate; he had a lightning scar on his forehead, she had a curling mark in the shape of an 'S' on her upper arm; he hated reading, she adored losing herself in books.

He resembled their parents. She didn't.

It used to bother her, how different she looked from them. When she was younger, Petunia told her they'd picked her out of a garbage bin. She'd believed it for a week until she realised that her clean, snobbish aunt would never stick her hand somewhere so gross. She'd much rather leave a baby out on the streets to die.

If she was telling the truth, she'd never really felt close to her deceased mother and father. At least, not in the same way Harry had.

When they'd first seen a photo of them both, Harry had clung onto the picture, gazing at it with a tear-jerking amalgam of longing and love for hours. Through which, Lia had sat there, urging herself to feel something. Anything. Something other than the quiet detachment and small ounce of regret that she felt, knowing that those two happy looking people were now dead.

Maybe she was adopted?

But then, if she was, her aunt and uncle would never have taken her in. Not when they already talked so fervently about how they should have given Harry off to an orphanage.

It didn't matter anyway. They were siblings, through thick and thin. They both were ferociously protective of the ones they loved. And as Lia only truly loved Harry, and Harry only truly loved Lia, they were in it together.

It was because of that protective bond between them that Lia hated Piers, Dennis, Malcom and Gordon. They were always tormenting Harry, along with her wimp of a cousin, Dudley. Harry didn't really make it any better though. He was a stupid git too sometimes, with his silly conscience and even sillier sense of honour. What did he think he was doing, standing up to Dudley and Co. when they harassed the younger students, knowing perfectly well that he himself wasn't exactly the most popular kid in the school either?

That was another difference between the twins. Lia was a lot more self-preserving. It could be called selfish. But self-preserving sounded a lot better to her. Besides, she knew it was a cruel world out there. If you didn't stop to think about yourself first, you'd get taken advantage of - and she was no doorsill, waiting to get stepped all over. She wanted to survive, she wanted to be able to live happily.

Of course there was an exception.

An unfortunate exception. And that exception came in the form of her dumb reckless brother who was always getting himself in trouble. It was like he loved beaten up, that or he really liked it when Lia came and had to clean him up.

It was because of Lia's sisterly love for Harry that the animosity between the seven had been solidified on that day in March, when the rocks had been thrown. It had ended with Harry mysteriously appearing on the top of the roof; Dudley half sunk in mud, with a strange substance (Lia suspected it was dog poo) on his face; and the other four bullies screaming with broken bones.

It was only because Dudley was actually alright to Lia, on the days when they were at home in private, that he hadn't been injured too. One time, he had given her a cup of tea.

Lia too had screamed when she realised what had she'd done. She'd quivered in fear at the thought that she might be sent to juvie for physical assault.

She knew now that would never have happened though. Firstly, because there had been other witnesses, and no one had seen Lia even place a finger on those boys, not even when she was bellowing at them to stop. Secondly, because when her hands touched each the skin of the three shrieking children, their injuries had remarkably healed.

When the teacher finally came, there was not even a single swelling on the boys, and nothing to implicate Lia to the crime, except for the teary-eyed terrified youths that were bawling their eyes out. Deep down in her heart though, Lia knew that it had been her.

She had done it.

There was definitely a hidden side to her. A darker side. She tried to keep it suppressed. But sometimes it came lashing out. And people got hurt. It scared her. She always felt sorry after, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never remember what had happened, only a foggy blur of colour and sound, just a deep ceaseless abyss of anger and hatred that grew in heart, until it whipped out - like a cobra striking its victim.

But usually she was cheerful and optimistic. It was one of her most happy days during that eventful month, that she met Hagrid.

During the previous week, letters for her and Harry had been pouring through the house. So badly, and so incessantly, that it had incensed her uncle to the point of madness, so much so that he felt the need to relocate the family onto an awfully tiny shack on a rock in the middle of nowhere. Lia wasn't even exaggerating. It was surrounded by water, so when Petunia wanted to buy groceries, she'd had to row out for miles to the shore. It was sad to note that Lia would actually have preferred her leaky laundry room in Pivet Drive.

Hagrid had arrived on the night of her and Harry's eleventh birthdays. It had been a quiet affair.

They'd gotten up at midnight to draw themselves a pathetic looking birthday cake in the dirt, and they had exchanged the meagre gifts they could get their hands on. Harry had given her two novels. He must have noticed how she'd been eyeing them from the window display of the local bookstore. Lia gifted Harry with a shiny red bouncy ball. Her brother wasn't extremely sporty - he was too scrawny for things like rugby, and too unfit for soccer - but he did have amazing reflexes. She'd also given him a bunch of junk food from the local supermarkets. He needed to fatten up, he was too skinny as it was.

Lia had worried about how she would afford it at first.

Asking the Dursleys for money was an inconceivable idea. It was on one of those afternoons when she was contemplating this, wondering if she would actually be forced to give away her pride and dignity in order to beg for cash, that she saw it. She could have sworn that the money had been a rock at first, but in an instant, as she blinked, it had turned into a crisp twenty dollar note before her very eyes. It seemed too good to be true.

The best present though, had to have been when Hagrid burst in and told them that they were wizards.

Well, Harry was a wizard. She was obviously a witch. But a witch! Wasn't it amazing? And it explained quite a bit. Why she could do the things she did. Why she always felt different. Why she'd had a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind that she was missing something, something important ever since she was a young.

But magic! It seemed surreal.

How could magic possibly exist? And what was it Hagrid had said? In the mix of elation and excitement that had followed, she'd thought that he'd told her she'd be getting a wand. A wand! Just like the witches she'd read about in the story books! It felt like a dream. Like she was seeing the world, but through someone else's eyes. She closed her eyes and shook her head. How could it be happening to her? Nothing special ever happened. Not when you lived with aunts and uncles, as stringent and 'upstanding', as the Dursleys.

A witch! A witch! She really hoped that she wouldn't end up sprouting warts, or gaining an unattractively long hooked nose though. She wondered what she would be studying, the spells that she would learn. She made a mental note to start early, for one of her mottos was 'the early bird catches the worm'.

But then, would she have money for books? Well, she'd buy them anyway, even if she had to beg on the streets for it. She could busk, she supposed. Try some singing. Or she wouldn't really mind that much if she went and stole some notes off a wealthy fellow's wallet. She just couldn't tell Harry about it though, he was much too noble for something like petty theft.

What would the other children at Hogwarts be like? If they were all witches and wizards, people that had magic like her, people that were abnormal like her, perhaps she would finally be able to make some friends, that weren't pitifully her own brother.

She could barely sleep at night, the thoughts jumbling in her mind, whilst she waited in anticipation for the day when she would first step foot into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Hey everyone!

Thank you for clicking through my work :) Hope you liked it, and if you find any problems, pleaseeee review, so that I can make it more enjoyable for everyone! Constructive criticism is welcome.

I just wanted to put in this note, because I realised how long the story drags out for. Word of warning, I've held back a bit on the Draco and Lia romance at the start, so that he doesn't act OOC and it's more believable.

Hope you enjoy! Thanks lovely readers xxxxxx I adore you all.

\- Annie

P.s. Just as a side-note, if anyone wants to read something with Lily and James Potter in it, I have a new one-shot put up about the night that they sacrificed themselves for Harry. The website won't let me put in a hyperlink, but if you're interested you're more than welcome to click the link on my profile :) It's called 'The Last Stand'.


	3. Diagon Alley (Year 1)

"Harry come, come look at this!" Lia called, her eyes fixated upon what looked to be a thread of white, cloudy smoke. It was trapped inside a glass container, and every now and then, there would be a bang as it knocked onto the glass, most likely in an attempt to escape. The label on the side read 'Hinkypink' in vivd blue letters.

It had been a marvellous day. Sunlight fell upon her face in warm shimmery rays, and Lia thought her head was going to spontaneously combust from all the unbelievable things she'd encountered throughout her stroll down Diagon Alley.

For some reason unknown to her, Harry was a very famous figure around these parts. It had irritated her a bit at first, how the other witches and wizards were almost fighting for the privilege to shake Harry's hand, pat him on the back, or even just exchange pleasantries - all the while ignoring her. She supposed she was a touch jealous, but she reminded herself that Harry deserved the attention - after he survived that gods awful St. Gordons' School for Prats.

Although, she was definitely not jealous when he shook hands with the stuttering Professor Quirrell. Her hair had stood up in discomfort - he had been such an uncomfortably awkward and strange man.

Another strange thing that Lia could not make sense of was why everyone looked shocked when they were informed of her existence.

"Another Potter? Why, I've never heard of this before!" A witch had exclaimed. "Who could have thought that Lily had twins?" Her expression was almost frustrated.

Lia stayed silent. What was she supposed to reply to that? _Sorry, you didn't know I was alive, Mrs. It's too bad mum died before she could formally introduce us._ Or maybe, she could tell her that Lily picked a baby up out of the garbage and decided to keep her. The woman would surely appreciate that.

After a slightly awkward silence the witch had said, "Ah…well…it's an honour to meet you sweetheart, anyhow."

"C'mon." Hagrid spoke as he caught up to Harry and Lia, who were now both ogling the magical creatures that moved around in the cages.

"Plenty o' that to see at Hogwarts. You two best be gettin' your robes now". He pointed them towards a shop that had a shiny sign saying 'Madam Makin's Robes for All Occasions'. "Would ya' mind if I dash'd off ta' the Leaky Cauldron for a bit? Needa' pick somethin' up."

"No worries at all," Lia said, smiling up at Hagrid. The man had been affectionate to them, and despite his great stature, he did not appear intimidating to her. He reminded her slightly of one of those giant teddy bears she had once seen on a shop window, when she was accompanying the Dursleys whilst they did their Christmas shopping.

The sign on the shop read 'Madam Malkin's' in ornate, cursive letter, and the brick walls were painted with vibrant purple. Inside, they met a boy – a boy with shiny white-blond hair and very pale skin, and features so sharp, Lia thought she'd be cut if she got too close.

Lia deciphered that he must have been a wizard too, if he was here in this shop, and he appeared to be around their age too. She realised with a jolt that he might have been going to Hogwarts as well, for there couldn't be many wizarding schools in this part of England, right?

She was just walking over to introduce herself, until right in line with her thoughts, the boy turned around and spotted Harry.

"Hello," he said, "Hogwarts, too?"

Harry nodded, the movement sparking the other boy into a lengthy ramble about brooms, and sorting, and houses. She found that she was unable to understand his words, and growing increasingly bored, she chose to instead peek coyly at him.

He stunk of wealth. She could feel it radiating off him in his stance, his expression, the manner in which he spoke – a spoiled, lofty tone hung about him. Lia looked at the long, black, tailor-made clothes he was wearing. They sure did look nice. She was a touch envious. Petunia usually only gave her the disgustingly frilly, moth-eaten clothes that she used to wear as a child.

"I say, look at that man!" the boy exclaimed all of a sudden, pointing outside the window.

Lia spun around and saw Hagrid. She couldn't help grinning. The small package he was trying to hold delicately in his hands made him seem comparatively bigger, with a sort of cute clumsy aura. Like an oversized dog.

"Oh, that's Hagrid," she said.

The boy's eyes quickly skimmed over her, before resting on her own, so that the grey irises met the gold. He cocked his head slightly, as if acknowledging her for the first time.

There was a stillness, until he finally said, "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry replied. Lia could see his eyes grow colder. "I think he's brilliant."

She nodded her head in support. Who did this boy think he was, going around being so rude like that, when he didn't appear to have even spoken to Hagrid? Besides, servant? What was this? The middle ages?

The blonde boy eyed her. "Why is he accompanying you? Where are your parents?"

"Well that's none of your beeswax," Lia said, a bit surprised at being asked such a private question by a stranger. "Didn't _your_ parents teach you not to be so nosy?"

"Are they wizards?"

"Do I know you?" Then she smirked, as she felt a spark of mischief. She let her eyes widen in horror. "Quick!" she yelled. "Check your face!"

The boy ran his hands over his skin, probably fearing that he'd just caught some infection or sprouted a wart. As if that would even make him any uglier.

"I think I just found your nose in my business." Lia bought her hand to her forehand and pretended to faint in terror.

Harry's pupils dilated a fraction at her theatrics. "Lia," he whispered, a little nervous, "Be nice."

The boy looked both shocked and offended. "…Well. Are they?"

"Yes," Lia said curtly. "But they're dead".

He seemed momentarily appeased, (really who was appeased that someone's parents were dead?) but he shot a glare at her as he said a curt and false, "I'm sorry".

Lia shot an equally icy stare back at the boy. Two-facedness was not a quality she personally admired.

"Why does it matter if they were wizards or not?" she said. "We're all going to Hogwarts, aren't we? What, don't tell me you're writing a biography about Harry or something?"

Blondie snorted. "You're an idiot. You must really know nothing about the wizarding world huh?" He appeared incredulous.

"Oi. Watch who you're calling an idiot, you stupid prat," Lia said. She felt her fist shake.

But, no. It was the start of her wizarding journey, and she didn't want to get in trouble already. Also, she thought that it would be wise if she learnt some more spells, before she started picking fights. She wouldn't like it much if she sprouted a tail like Dudley had that night with Hagrid.

"You'll find that some blood is better than others," the boy launched into a long rant about 'blood' and 'purity'. He honestly sounded like a vampire, the way he spoke about it. Lia thought that if his blood was really as 'fine' as he claimed, he should just get ahead with it and drink it already - he seemed to be enough of a narcissist and a weirdo to do something like that.

She passed a shared look with Harry, and he nodded. "Let's go, Lia".

They picked up their fresh new robes and walked out of the store, leaving the blond boy inside still mid-talk.

Little did she know, that the boy stared after them, long after she had already left, his gaze a mix of disbelief, resentment and grudging curiosity.

Who were these people, who didn't seem to understand anything? They had said that their parents were wizards, so they couldn't be muggle born. But then again, they could be lying. Who didn't understand that they should treat him, a Malfoy, with respect? Who in the world dared to just leave when he was speaking? And who was that girl, the one that reminded him of a cobra when she spoke? Draco didn't like her already.

Even his mother commented on him being absent-minded, as she bought him his books. He couldn't help it. He had worked himself up into an angry frenzy, thinking about the strange boy and the girl.


	4. All Aboard (Year 1)

It was not until a few days later, on the Hogwarts Express platform, that Lia saw the boy again. He was standing on the edge of the pavement, reluctantly hugging what she thought were his parents - they all had annoyingly bright blond hair. She had shuddered when she'd looked at his father. He looked like a worse, more badly mannered version of his son.

It was ludicrous the way his nose crinkled and turned up at the sight of the muggles saying goodbye to their magical children. It was as if he could smell some kind of foulness off of them, something only he and his family could detect. Which was strange, as Lia wondered how he could possibly think that the muggles were putrid, when he and his son were as disgusting as they were.

But Lia stopped herself there, she didn't like judgemental people, but even she couldn't help herself from casting her own views about these strangers. She was a bit of a hypocrite, wasn't she? But for some reason though, she didn't think that her opinion about the cold blonde-haired man was wrong – he was definitely the type that sneered instead of smiled, hurt instead of helped, shattered instead of saved. She had seen people like him in the muggle world: the racist ones, who thought that their heritage made them somehow better than others, all the while ignoring their own lewdness and impurity.

She grabbed her luggage, being very careful with the cage that contained her new European-Eagle Owl. She had named him 'Tyto', whilst Harry's bird was now deemed 'Hedwig', which sounded vaguely like 'Hagrid' to Lia.

Soon, she was sitting on the plush seat in her compartment on the Hogwarts Express, with the red-haired boy whose mother had helped in getting her and Harry through the brick wall to nine and three-quarters. In one hand, she turned a wand over and over again, slipping it nimbly through her fingers.

Lia thought back to the budding feeling of satisfaction that she'd gained when the wand had chosen her, and the way she had felt complete, holding it firmly in her grasp. Invincible. As if she could do anything she wanted. No matter how corny that may sound. Having a wand, her own wand, somehow assured the part of her that had worried that this had all been a dream; or that Hagrid had made a mistake, and she wasn't actually a witch after all, and then she would be forced to go back to that tedious life with the Dursleys. She wasn't sure if she could survive it without Harry by her side.

Her wand was made of yew and threstral hair, ten and a half inches, and quite flexible, she was told.

She recollected the expression of amazement that Mr. Ollivander had worn when Harry had picked out his phoenix feather wand. That look had only increased when he realised that the wand she was destined for was made of yew and thestral hair. She'd done some research, and yew was a powerful wood, one that could perform great magic, magic that could waver the lines between life and death. Coupled with threstral hair, which was virtually unheard of as a wand core, the stick was formidable indeed. She couldn't help feeling slightly proud, although she knew that it would be a long time, and after much hard work, before she could actually do anything remotely impressive with it.

"Use that wand wisely, my girl," Ollivander had said, "It's power is immense. Two siblings with such unique wand cores … my, my … thestral hair … only two wands like it in existence … and yew too … the last yew wand I'd sold … such power … curious… how, curious."

Confused and somewhat frightened, they had left the wand maker to his mumblings.

She stored the wand in her pocket and pulled out her book of spells. She had barely been able to put it down since she had first bought it. Lia loved magic.

It wasn't as if the spells just came naturally to her. She'd had to work hard, very hard, at first, just to get her pencil to move over a touch. When she'd finally been able to do it, she had spent the holidays staying up late, hiding under her duvet and practising the spells again and again – sparking little lights, making objects fly around her room, transforming rocks into flowers with a flick and a whisper.

Before too long, the incantations would just pour out and she found that she could pronounce it quite accurately, with the correct hand motion, even without requiring much concentration. It was absolutely marvellous, especially since in the muggle school, she had been a less than stellar student. But then again, she didn't have much experience with the wizarding world. Perhaps this degree of skill was normal for first-years? All she knew was doing considerably better than Harry, who was yet to open his books.

To be honest, if she really admitted it to herself, a lot of her motivation that summer had been envisioning meeting the pale blonde boy again, and testing out of the jinxes on him. She couldn't wait to see his face turn red with rage again. She could tell that they were going to get on each others' nerves, and she had to be prepared to meet him in battle.

She flicked to a page about changing skin colour.

Harry watched her, wearing a look of wariness and suspicion. "You're always reading now, Lia."

Lia grinned and semi-stuck out her tongue. "You should look at it too. It's actually really interesting."

Ron looked over at her book as well. She was quite pleased to have met him. Ron was nice enough, a funny fellow, and it was great having someone who could explain the wizarding world to her.

"Are you reading about magic?" he asked. Before she could answer he said, "I've practising a spell myself too, want to see?"

Lia nodded.

It was at the exact moment that Ron had pulled out his wand, that a girl with unkempt brown hair strolled into the compartment.

"Have you seen a toa…", she trailed off. "Oooh! Are you practising magic? Well, lets see then!"

Ron looked uncomfortable by the sudden attention of the stranger at the door and cleared his throat. "Well … alright, I guess."

He said in loud voice, "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Lia stared at him blankly. So did Harry and the girl. Nothing seemed to be happening.

She felt sorry for Ron. That spell had definitely not been in her own spell books. It sounded like a load of rubbish to be honest, and it was obvious that someone had been trying to deceive him. A spell like that would never have worked, she could tell that there was no magic hanging onto it.

"That's not a very good spell, is it?" the girl said breaking the silence. "Are you sure its real? Well … if you wanted to do some actual magic, the textbooks are the place to go. I've memorised all of them." She tilted her head up proudly. "I'm Hermione Granger, and you are?"

"Ron Weasely," muttered Ron, whose cheeks had turned a bit red from insult and embarrassment.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"Daliah Potter," said Lia, "But call me Lia."

"Wow," Hermione's eyes grew wider. "Harry Potter! I've heard about you in the history books." She turned to look at Lia "But nothing about you Lia." She appeared puzzled, as if wondering how a book could actually be inaccurate. "All the authors wrote that Harry was an only child".

Lia smiled at her - after Diagon Alley she had grown a bit used to this.

"And yet, here I am".

She thought that Hermione seemed to be a knowledgeable girl, so they had a quick discussion about the books that they were studying this year. Lia didn't know anything about magical history (she was never very interested in the practical side of things and it bored her), but she loved sharing the enchantments they knew.

She stopped though, at the increasingly uninterested look on Harry and Ron's faces. Ron looked close to falling asleep.

Hermione glanced at the time. "You three had better change, we'll be here soon. I'm going to go look for Neville's toad."

She stopped at the door. "Nice to meet you Lia," she said with a small smile.

Lia grinned back. "Pleasure's all mine." She rested back in her seat, feeling assured and more confident now that she had already made two friends.

It wasn't long before the doors to their compartment glided open again. This time though, it was the pale blond boy she'd met when buying her robes. He barely spared her a glance. His attention was fixated on Harry, the eyes barely moving at all.

"Is it really true?" he said. "I've heard up and down the train that Harry Potter was here. Is it you?"

Harry's eyes narrowed, probably remembering the disrespectful remarks the boy had made in the shop. He gave a brisk nod.

"That's Crabbe and that's Goyle," blondie said with a casual flick of his hand. "And I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy." He rolled out the letters of his name in a long drawl.

Ron and Lia gave a slight snigger. She covered it up much better than Ron though, who had hastily concealed his laugh into a cough that sounded very fake indeed. He was forced to cop the displeasure of having Draco turn to him with a glare.

"Think my name's funny, do you?"

What a touchy boy! Lia thought that he was unable to take a joke at all. She was contemplating whether he or Dudley was worse, when blondie opened his mouth, and more garbage and filth poured out of those rosy lips of his.

"Well I don't need to ask who you are. I've heard all about the Weasley family from my father. Red hair, freckles, and too many children for their meagre earnings." He eyed Ron's second hand robes with disdain.

"Hey!" Lia was beginning to hate the boy. "You can't talk to Ron like that."

"And you are?" When Malfoy's eyes flicked to hers, they widened fractionally. He was probably remembering their encounter in Madam Malkins.

"Lia. Lia Potter."

"Potter?" he looked momentarily confused. "... Didn't know there was another Potter."

"Well." Lia scoffed. "That's not really a shock is it. I don't think you know very much at all."

His face contorted and grew increasingly redder. She thought vaguely, that he looked a bit like an overripe tomato. Malfoy looked like he wanted to retort with something nasty, but he kept it in internally. The action of holding in those insults looked like it was causing him physical pain.

"Potter," he said after a while. "And you." He scowled at Lia, who did not appreciate being called 'you' one bit.

"I think that you'll both find that some families are better than others. You shouldn't make friends with the wrong sort. I can see that you might be a bit … confused." He shot a look at Lia. "But I'm willing to overlook that. You probably didn't have much of an education with those dirty muggles around all the time. But I can help you choose … beneficial … friends."

Lia had never liked the muggle world much – she had no love for her other relatives, her teachers or her old peers – but she still felt angry that Malfoy was talking so harshly about them, as if he was somehow so much more superior. She didn't like the way he had said 'muggles' or his choice of the word 'beneficial' either. He must have had no clue what real friendship was actually about.

All in all, she thought he was perhaps the most superficial and narrow-minded person she had ever met.

"Thank you so much for your kind offer," Lia said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

"I think we can tell who the wrong sort are for ourselves," Harry backed her up.

Malfoy, whose face had become less red in the time that had passed, turned pink again.

She felt sort of exhilarated and rebellious standing up to blondie like this. She certainly hadn't been meek at her last school. She knew how to fight and argue for her and Harry's sake, but she had always been held back. The slightest wrongdoing would have meant no food, or another week locked up in her room. But now? Well, her aunt and uncle were miles away.

Lia laughed.

Unluckily, Malfoy, who by now resembled a tomato again, thought that she was laughing at him. People were always misunderstanding Lia.

"I'd be careful if I were you," he threatened. "If you don't learn your manners, you might end up just like your parents. Worse still, keep hanging out with scum like the Weasleys and Hagrid, and you must just catch their disease".

All three of them shot up out their seats. Ron was now also a very deep shade of red.

"Say that again," Ron said in a low voice.

Malfoy sneered. "Going to fight me now?" he taunted.

Lia very much wanted to. She imagined punching him straight in his face, and breaking his haughty little nose. But, she was a lady. And she would act like one.

"Look. Draco, was it?" she said loudly, slowly pulling out the words and eyeing the wand that Malfoy had drawn out.

"I was hoping more for a battle of the wits ... but, well, it would hardly be fair right? You seem to be unarmed. Like, I understand that you might be a bit too pig-headed and dense to comprehend this. But honestly, who are you calling dirty? Look at yourself."

She whipped out her wand sneakily and quietly whispered an incarnation, whilst Malfoy and gang were too busy scanning themselves for signs of dirt. Really, how much stupider could they get?

Lia watched with blossoming delight and smugness as the spell took hold, and Malfoy's skin darkened until it had become a very muddy and very unattractive shade of poo-brown.

She giggled as he screeched like a little girl and ran, bursting out of the compartment, spluttering profanities with his tail trailing behind his legs. Crabbe and Goyle chased after him like the dogs that they were.


	5. Potter in Slytherin (Year 1)

The Great Hall was unlike anything Lia had ever witnessed before. With towering ceilings that seemed to reach high up for the enchanted night sky above, and candles illuminating each and every corner of the colossal room, it was a sight to behold. Four long tables stretched out vertically, and the older students seated on the chairs swung their heads around to glance intriguingly at them, the first-years forming a group in the centre of the hall.

Lia turned her head around and spotted Malfoy standing on the opposite side of her. His face was still a slight shade redder than usual, and his skin more tanned. Most likely a remnant of the spell that she had pulled. His gaze was furious as his eyes met hers.

"You'll pay," he whispered resentfully to her.

"I'm trembling," Lia shot back.

It probably would be wise if she was more worried about Malfoy's threats. After all she had little knowledge of who he was, and he seemed to have quite a lot of power over the other students already - through fear or admiration, she didn't know. But she couldn't bring herself to waste any more of her energy thinking about the irksome boy. It was just too tiresome.

And he was totally ruining her euphoria about finally arriving in Hogwarts' towers.

She bought her eyes back to the front of the room, where a professor was now holding a tatty old hat. The hat had just finished singing a song of its own creation. She knew from her own prior reading, and Professor McGonagall's speech, that they were about to be sorted into their own houses: witty Ravenclaw, kind Hufflepuff, daring Gryffindor, or cunning Slytherin.

Anticipation and a smidgen of fear flowered in her stomach. She didn't really feel like she was destined for any house, or even that she was made for all of them? Maybe not Hufflepuff though, Lia was a bit too brazen for that.

Harry seemed to sense her nervousness. His hand reached out and grabbed hers. He gave her a shaky smile, that Lia returned. Whatever house they were in, even if they were split up, she knew that Harry would still be at her side. Together, they were an iconic duo.

Lia couldn't stop her mind from wondering as she contemplated which house she would be in, as a dozen names and faces that she didn't recognise were called out and sorted. Personally, she was rooting for Gryffindor, for she was sure that Harry would definitely be placed there. He matched the traits: brave, almost to the point of stupidity; loyal, again almost to the point of stupidity; and chivalrous too, always going around standing up for the weak because of his silly, albeit virtuous, morals.

"Hermione Granger." Lia's mind focused on the present again.

She watched with anticipation as the sorting hat was put on Hermione's eagerly waiting, slightly quivering head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" it yelled.

Lia clapped for her enthusiastically. Although Ron seemed a bit off put. He was probably still insulted by the way Hermione had spoke to him on the train.

Her stomach was churning by now. She really, really, really wanted to be in Gryffindor. Hermione was in there. Ron and Harry would probably soon follow after her. A horrid thought stuck her. What if she placed in some other house? Ravenclaw for example? And she was there all by herself? She didn't think she could stand being an outcast again.

Harry's thoughts appeared to have echoed hers, for he looked back at her with that same fearful expression.

"Draco Malfoy."

Malfoy walked up to the front with that idiotic swagger of his. He was trying to look collected and confident, but Lia could tell that he was shaking beneath those expensive robes.

He needn't have worried though. The hat hardly even grazed his head before it cried, "SLYTHERIN!"

"What a shock," Lia thought. Malfoy's whole family had probably been in that house.

"Ronald Weasley."

Ron was pale, and he looked close to vomiting. As he sat on the seat, he looked down at his older brothers sitting in Gryffindor, who were waiting in anticipation, and gulped.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Relief shone in Ron's face. His brothers clapped him hard on the back when he walked over, and they all grinned exuberantly.

It wasn't long before it was Harry's turn. Although they had the same last name, H came before L, so naturally he was usually before her for most things.

She watched, squirming with barely restrained anticipation. The hat seemed to deliberate on him for much longer than anyone else.

Finally, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Lia felt so happy for Harry, he looked ecstatic, but it also meant that now she was worried. What if they did put her in Ravenclaw? She didn't know anyone there. Or worse … what if it was Slytherin? She didn't think she could survive seven years with that awful Draco Malfoy.

"Daliah Potter."

She slowly walked up. She shuddered a little as the hat landed on her head.

She heard someone sitting in the Ravenclaw section whisper, "Potter? What? When did the Potters have a girl?"

She strained her ears and tried to hear more, but stopped as the hat spoke to her.

"Oh, another Potter. Such talent too. Ah, Potters. Always making things so difficult for me … you're just as hard to sort as your 'brother'," the hat seemed to have said brother with a strange tone.

"Such courage, such determination, hmmm a cunning mind too. Very clever, oh my, such a sharp mouth! What house? What house to pick? You'd do nicely in all of them. Well…perhaps … yes, yes … I see it now … Slytherin? Great potential down that path!"

Lia's eyes widened.

"Please, not Slytherin!" she pleaded inside her head. "Please, sorting hat. I'll do anything! Please, I can't survive in Slytherin!"

The shabby hat seemed to laugh at her. "Well, aren't you just like the Potter boy."

Lia was bemused.

"Ah, but different too …. maybe Gryffindor was right for Harry. But for you I see no other option. Now, girl don't be so worried. You look positively sick with fear. No, no, please don't beg. I promise you. You will thank me later. A mind like yours could only belong there, and no need to worry you will have many friends." A teasing tone took over the hat's voice, "Perhaps even more than that."

And then it bellowed, to Lia's horror, "SLYTHERIN!"

She didn't know whether to scream or cry. Ron had told her that Slytherin was where all the bad witches and wizards went, where the dark ones were placed. Voldemort himself, her parents' murderer, had been in that very house. But Lia … she wasn't evil was she? But she remembered the things she had done in the past. The way she sometimes hurt people, made them scream. She thought of the dark monster that lurked inside of her.

"Perhaps the sorting hat was right," she thought bitterly. "I do belong in Slytherin."

She spotted Harry's equally miserable face as she walked towards what was now her table. It was alright for Harry. He had Ron and Hermione. Who did Lia have? She saw a patch of blond, blond hair. Draco. Freaking. Malfoy. Harry saw the disgust and dread on his sister's face. He seemed to be trying to silently communicate to her with his eyes now.

"Be brave."

Well, easy for him to say. He was in Gryffindor, and everyone was patting him on the back, that Weasley boy that was a prefect even went and shook his hand, like Harry was Prime Minister or something. Lia wasn't that brave anyway, not like Harry, she was too selfish, too cowardly. She wasn't the type to sacrifice herself for others. No … she wouldn't have fitted in in noble Gryffindor.

Lia saw with dismay that the only seat left on the table was beside Malfoy ... Malfoy, who was now looking at her with contempt. She resisted the urge to punch him, as she slid down into the chair. She resolved to just ignore him, and try to find some nicer people who were more worthy of her company.

Sadly, he didn't seem willing to let her brood in peace. He smirked slightly. Lia heard warning bells in her head.

"Well. Well. Look who it is," he drawled. "Little Miss Potter, all alone in scary Slytherin. Why, the sorting hat must be getting old. Who knew a half-blood would be allowed in this house?" He looked at the other newly arrived Slytherin girls – Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, Tracey Davis, Daphne Greengrass and Selene Blackwater - with an expression of mock horror.

One of the girls, Pansy, laughed. "You're right, Draco. Merlin. I hope I'm not sharing a room with her. Father would be furious if he knew I was associating with such filthy blood. Mudblood mother," she spat.

Lia narrowed her eyes.

She had thought that she'd escaped the harrying, snooty girls when she left her home in Pivet Drive, but apparently she was wrong. It seemed that she would never be at peace - leaving one nightmare, in order to gain another. But she was Daliah Potter, and she wasn't going to let some imprudent brat ruin her Hogwarts experience.

"Same goes for you Pansy. Although I really can't understand you and your dad's perspective. I'd sure like to see things from your point of view, but …" She sighed, her expression regretful, sad even. "I can't seem to get my head that far up your ass."

"Why you -" growled Pansy. Lia knew that she had most likely made an enemy, but she didn't care too much. She couldn't see herself being friends with this Pansy in any alternate universe.

Pansy didn't get to finish her sentence, for Dumbledore had clinked his glass and the hall fell silent. After a few short words and a swish of his wand, the plates and bowls adorned around the tables immediately became filled with food of every kind. Lia thought that she had never beheld such a delicious, mouth-watering sight. It really put Petunia's cabbage soup in perspective.

She wasn't the least bit sorry to say that, upon hearing her stomach growl, she forgot all her determination to become a lady, and ate like a starving cave woman. She rolled her eyes at Malfoy, whose expression was disgusted as he watched her shovel food onto her plate.

"Ahhhh," she said, opening her mouth so that Malfoy had a stunning close-up view of the churned mashed-up food inside. He made a gagging sound.

It was the start of a most beautiful enemy to enemy relationship.

Lia grinned. Sure, she wasn't with Harry, Ron or Hermione, but at least she had the privilege of being able to offend Pansy and infuriate Malfoy. It would be a fun year. She imagined all the insults, jinxes and hexes that she could use on the two. Tracey Davis, who had been watching in amusement, gave her a little smile, that she returned.

Yes, perhaps Slytherin wouldn't be as bad as she thought.


	6. Dumb and Dumber (Year 1)

"Lia! Merlin save me ... What are you doing?" Tracey yelled in exasperation, as she watched her friend, who was still sitting placidly on her chair, flicking between the pages of a worn-out book with her index finger. She shook her head. "Have you even looked at the time?" She pulled her up by tugging hard on the girl's arm. "We're going to be late for our first flying class!"

"Oh." Lia's eyes widened, and the book thudded to the floor. "I forgot." Then she grinned apologetically at Tracey. "Have you seen the library here though? It's amazing. I almost wanted to borrow everything!"

Tracey scoffed. "Books aren't as good as flying. And if you don't hurry the hell up, we'll never even learn how to mount a broom."

In the brief week and a half since the sorting, Lia had surprisingly been having a much better time in Slytherin than she had anticipated. The heavens had finally answered her pleas, and had not damned her with even more bad luck.

Mercifully, she was not in a room with Parkinson and her equally fugly and bigoted friend, Millicent Bulstrode. Thank goodness. Or perhaps thank the teachers. They probably realised that if the two of them were put together, Pansy might end up buried in a coffin, the whole dorm might burn down … or worse Parkinson might run and complain to that vile father of hers.

No, they were all spared from that disaster.

Her roommates comprised of Tracey Davis, a pert girl who had deceivingly innocent chocolate brown eyes; Daphne Greengrass, who although pleasant in private, was a bit of a people pleaser, and was always trying to win the approval of the 'Hag-inson and Mope-foy posse'; Caroline Summers, who seemed way too kind and bubbly to be in Slytherin; and Selene Blackwater, a reserved pureblood girl who enjoyed books and mostly kept to herself.

The girls were alright. Better than alright. They were nice enough, even though she was sure that everyone there had a sly side simmering beneath the surface. They were Slytherins after all. Perhaps, it was why they had all gotten along so marvellously. Well mostly … there had been a few arguments, and Greengrass was sometimes excruciatingly painful to watch as she followed 'Pansy the pansy' everywhere. But everyone had their faults.

Lia and Tracey ran out of the castle, sprinting and panting for breath. They arrived at the grounds mere seconds before Madam Hooch appeared. She noted that their teacher had the most bizarre yellow eyes. They weren't a scorching gold like hers, but rather, a lighter shade, whilst sharp and piercing like a hawk's.

Lia moved closer to the Gryffindors, and poked Harry on his shoulder. Her brother spun around and smiled widely when he saw her. Even though they no longer lived in the same house, she was sure to leave time for him, Hermione and Ron. At first, she had felt a bit awkward, guilty even, as if she had betrayed him and his friends by getting herself sorted into Slytherin. Then she'd laughed at how irrational and foolish she was being. Harry was her brother. He knew that it wasn't her fault she was in that house. And even if he did blame her. Well, who cared what he though anyway? Besides, Sytherin was actually satisfactory.

Satisfactory if you didn't count _certain_ people. She groaned at the sight of the familiar blond hair. Why was it that every time she saw Mopefoy, she just wanted to throw up?

"Well then, what are you lot all waiting for?" Madam Hooch's barking voice startled Lia. "Come on. Everyone stand by a broomstick. Hurry up. We don't have all day now."

Lia's broom looked very volatile.

It was scruffy and there were curious indents all around it, as if someone's long nails had dug scratches into the wood - bits of wood sticking around everywhere, and she thought that she saw a cockroach hiding beneath a particularly angular twig. She was about to steal Harry's broomstick but saw that his didn't look much better.

"I want you to stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say firmly, 'Up!"

"Up!" They said in unison. Lia was delighted to find that her broom had indeed flown up into her hand immediately. As had Harry's. She was disappointed to see that blondie's had as well.

That stupid smug smirk was back on his stupid smug face again.

Madam Hooch then proceeded to show them how to mount their brooms correctly, in order to avoid sliding off the end. She went and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Lia smiled when she reached Malfoy and chastised him for holding it wrong.

"You haven't been doing it right for years," Hooch said.

"When does he ever do anything right?" Lia muttered. It turned out to be much louder than she expected and she heard some Gryffindors snicker. Malfoy, apparently having heard (that was a wonder in itself, Malfoy's hearing was usually awful), glared at her.

"Now, as soon as I blow my whistle, you need to kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Be careful to keep your brooms steady, only rise a few feet, and then come straight back down. You can do this by leaning forward slightly. Okay, everyone ready? On my whistle - three - two -"

Neville, who was white-faced, had risen up into the air, even before Hooch's lips could form into the shape of the word 'one'. Lia grimaced. The silly boy had pushed off too early, and he didn't seem to be able to control himself or his broomstick. The class was silent as they watched Neville rise higher and higher.

All the while, Madam Hooch was screaming, "Come back, boy!"

Neville certainly looked like he wanted to put his feet on solid ground again, he was close to tears, but the broom did not want to cooperate. She watched as Neville's grip on the handle grew looser and weaker.

"He's probably shaking too much to have a firm hold," Lia thought. "And his palms must be sweating too." She realised what was going to happen, just as Neville's eyes grew enormously and he slipped, plummeting to the ground.

Next minute, Hooch was bent over Neville, examining his wrist with concern. "Broken," she murmured. Lia felt very sorry for Neville, he looked almost beside himself with pain and embarrassment at the spectacle he and his unruly broomstick had caused.

Lia remembered what she had once been able to do. How Dudley's friend, Pier's broken arm had seemingly mended under touch. Mended until it was as good as new ... better than new.

"Professor! Let me," she interjected. Before anyone else could react, she was already by Neville's side, her spry fingers gently stoking the tear-streaked boy's wrist. She imagined warmth in her brain, and two pieces of cloth stitching back together again. To everyone's amazement, the odd angle at which Neville's bone sat, seemed to correct itself and slide back into perfect alignment. The purple bruising faded away into creamy coloured skin.

Satisfied with her work, and the fact that Neville was no longer in obvious pain (he was turning his wrist around, his jaw hanging open in astonishment), she stood up to meet the awe-struck expressions of her teacher and peers.

"Why … Miss Potter. That … that was," Hooch seemed shocked beyond words. "Incredible."

"It was just some simple healing," Lia flushed under the unwanted attention and looked down at the floor.

"But without your wand! And no incantation! How? What spell did you possibly use? Episkey? But that needs to be said aloud and it's only for minor breaks. Goodness, your sort of skill takes years of practise. Years I say. And even then, it is so rare to meet a witch with that ability." She smiled, astounded. "My dear, you must consider a role in St Mungo's Hospital when you're older."

Lia held back a laugh. She couldn't really imagine herself as a nurse or a doctor, and had a ridiculous vision of herself feeding soup to an old man, whilst dressed in a short skirt and apron. No, that wouldn't do.

"Twenty points to Slytherin!" Tracey clapped her hands together at that. "And I think I'll be having a word to your other teachers. They should be delighted to know that we have such a talented student in our midst."

Lia's eyes drifted back to Neville. "Thank you for your kind words, Madam Hooch. But, I still think it would be best if Neville was taken to the hospital wing. I'm not really sure what I just did. Or if there's any … damage? I wouldn't want him to get … I don't know … arthritis or something."

Hooch nodded, even though she looked confused at what arthritis was. "A thoughtful idea. Now, class, wait here why I take Mr Longbottom to the hospital wing. None of you are to move! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'. Come on, dear."

As soon as they were out of hearing range, Malfoy laughed. A high, piercing, sour laugh. "Did you see his face, the great lump?"

Some of the other Slytherins joined in on the laughter. They were namely Crabbe, Goyle and Hag-inson. It was sort of ironic. Lia wasn't sure if those three were even smart enough to tell the head of a broomstick from the tail. They surely would have fallen off too had it happened to them. She imagined Pansy's leg breaking and smiled despite herself.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati Patil.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy the pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Who are you calling fat, Haginson? I wonder? Is that your stomach or did you swallow a beach ball?" Lia snapped.

Pansy opened her mouth, probably to spurt out another dumb retort of hers, when Mopefoy suddenly said, "Look!". He flung himself forward and snatched something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

Lia saw the Remembrall glittering in the sun as he held it up. She thought back to the content look on Neville's face when he had opened the package this morning. It was obvious that no matter how harsh his grandmother was, they loved each other. He would want that ball back.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. There was a silence as heads turned around to watch the scene. Lia sighed internally. There was Harry again. Standing up for those who couldn't do it themselves. So _brave_. So _noble_. And now that he was in it, she would doubtlessly have to step in to protect her fool of a brother and stop him from getting hexed by Mopefoy, or worse.

Malfoy's face warped into a smile. The expression did not suit him at all. He looked like one of those deranged, twisted psychos. In fact, he actually reminded her a bit of Norman Bates from the muggle movie 'Pyscho'. She had seen it once when she'd been sleepless at night and had sneaked downstairs to watch the television. It had just happened to be playing, and since she was only ten at the time, she'd been freaked out, which had certainly not helped her insomnia.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find," he said cruelly. "Let's see … how about … up a tree?"

"Malfoy," Lia hissed. "Give it here. Now."

Blondie scowled. He was always scowling and glaring. One of these days, the wind was going to blow the wrong way, and his pretty face wouldn't be so pretty anymore. Wait … she hadn't actually thought of Mopefoy's face as 'pretty' had she? What was wrong with her? Was she going blind?

"I don't think so Potter," he smirked.

"I'm warning you Mal Mal. Hand the ball over. You don't want a broken bone like Neville. Do you?"

"Are you threatening me, Pottie?" he scoffed. "As if you could ever harm me. That trick with the 'healing'? I bet you Neville's wrist wasn't even broken in the first place. I wouldn't even be surprised if you were a squib."

"Well. That was rude. if you're so sure Malfoy. Give me your wrist. And let's see if I'm really a squib. Shall we?"

Malfoy and Lia had an intense glaring match. It was like they were waiting to see who would break first so that they'd have an excuse to try and kill the other. Luckily, Harry's voice broke the tension. Lia's fingers had been itching to wrap themselves around Malfoy's neck.

"Give it here!" Harry yelled, lunging forward to try to snatch it off Malfoy's grimy hands.

But as fast as lightning, the slimy git leapt onto his broomstick and glided up into the sky. Lia was disheartened to have to reluctantly admit that the arrogant idiot was actually not half-bad at flying. At least he wasn't as stupid as she had thought. He knew which end of the broom was which.

He came to a stop and hovered level with the topmost branches of an oak, and called, "Mr and Miss Potter. Do you want the ball? Come and get it, then!"

Harry, Harry who never thought things through, immediately ran and grabbed his broom.

"No!" shouted Hermione. "Harry, you can't! Madam Hooch told us not to move. Didn't you hear her? You'll get us all into trouble and you'll get yourself expelled."

However, Harry, blinded by his honour and hot-headedness, simply ignored Hermione's logical words. Lia thought she could almost see steam blowing out of his ears. She swore. Her stupid brother was actually going to try to fly! What in seven hells was he going to do if he fell? What if he got caught? He'd never even flown before! And it was obvious that Malfoy had learnt, probably from his sneak of a father.

Well, now Harry was just about forcing her to get up there too. She weighed up the options in her head. Would she rather be expelled with Harry, or stay at Hogwarts and be separated? Actually, would she rather die herself, or let Harry die? Would she rather prove Malfoy wrong, or be a good student and stay on the ground like all her other peers?

If it had been anyone else up there, even Ron or Tracey, who were now good friends of hers, Lia wouldn't have risked herself. But of course, it had to be Harry. And in her mind, Harry came first.

Lia followed behind Harry, grabbing her own broom, just as her brother had mounted and kicked hard, to rise and soar into the air. She cursed again. There wasn't enough time to plan what to do if they fell. She could vaguely remember a movement charm she'd read, 'Aresto momentum', which should be able to slow down their speed if they fell. But she'd never had the chance to test it out yet, and she couldn't remember if the words were right.

She looked at Malfoy. At that height, they probably wouldn't die if they fell, maybe if they were unlucky enough to break their neck, but it would be painful, and Lia didn't want to get injured before she had even spent two weeks at Hogwarts.

Hating and internally screaming at her sibling, she gripped hard onto the handle, and flew up as well.

Flying had an immediate and unexpected effect on her. The fear in her stomach vanished, even though this had to be one of her illogical decisions, and it was replaced with shock and exhilaration when she realised that she was actually hovering in the air! And she wasn't close to dying yet! It was even better when she spotted the shock on Malfoy's face. He'd learn not to underestimate them next time.

She flew up to Harry, who was grinning too. Even though it was childish, Lia couldn't help but high-five him.

"You're an idiot," she said truthfully to her brother.

Down below, there were some screams and gasps. Ron and Tracey had given an admiring whoop. Lia reminded herself to be nicer to those two later. Maybe buy them a gift.

"Give it here, Malfoy," Harry called out.

"Or we'll knock you off that broom," Lia said. "In case it escaped your notice, it's two against one. Well two against a half. You don't really count as one."

"Oh, you will huh," sneered Malfoy. He was trying to look tough, but she could see the worry and fear in his eyes. He was such a bloody coward.

Lia exchanged a look with Harry, and they both nodded. Malfoy looked even more scared.

Somehow, the two of them had communicated silently to each other, and they both knew what to do. Lia leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and shot toward Mopefoy like a sharp arrow fired from a bow, whilst Harry followed from the other side. Malfoy was only able to just get out of the way in time. A few hands were clapping below. Served him right for being such a bully.

"Oooooh, is poor little Mal Mal scared?" she taunted.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck," Harry called.

Malfoy seemed to have thought of that too. "Well if you two are so brave, catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Lia watched the ball fly up into the sky and drop down from gravity. Harry followed and shot into a very steep dive, as he raced for the ball. She was a bit afraid to see what would happen next, so she chose to instead tail after Malfoy. She was hungry for some revenge. Before he could reach the ground, Lia crashed her broom into him and the two of them fell into a heap on the grass. Lia hadn't meant to have collapsed herself as well - she'd just been looking to hit Malfoy, leave a nice bruise on his bleached skin.

"Get off me!" he yelled, incensed.

"I'm trying! Stop wriggling so much! Are you a bloody worm or something?"

Malfoy leaped up and dusted himself off. He set his furious gaze on Lia. "And what are you? Do you have mad cow disease? I swear to god."

"No Malfoy. I'm a human being," she paused. "The real question is what _species_ are you?" She ran a hand through her hair, she'd messed it up flying, and she could feel the tangles between her fingers. "Earth is crowded. Go home."

"Why can't you just leave me alone!" he spluttered out. "You're always here sticking your hideous face in everything. Do you have a crush on me or something? Want to get me on the ground? You should have just asked. Not crashed here like some crazy dog with rabies."

It was Lia's turn to splutter now. "Why … you … you arrogant slimeball!" She growled, the sound low in her throat.

"Tell me," she said. "Is your ass jealous of the amount of shit that just came out of your mouth?"

Her eyes narrowed into slits as she continued ranting. "You just think everything's about you huh? Well, for your bloody information the world does NOT resolve around the Malfoys, and I was trying to freaking knock your head off of your shoulders! Not straddle you! You're absolutely disgusting! I'm _eleven_! And you're a bloody bad influence! God save me. I'm going to knock your teeth out!"

Harry had reached her now. She was briefly pleased to see that he had managed to catch the Remembrall. At least, it wasn't all for nothing. She calmed down as he put a hand on her shoulders. She saw the warning in his eyes. It wouldn't do well for her to go and thump Malfoy already. She'd best wait until they were in private, and she could make him pay without all these … witnesses.

"HARRY POTTER!"

The voice was so loud and reverberating, that some students even gave a little jolt. Lia swallowed nervously as she saw Professor McGonagall approaching. She was a strict teacher. Even in the short time Lia had been at Hogwarts, she already knew that.

"Keep calm," she whispered rapidly to Harry. "Don't be afraid to lie. Just tell her Malfoy threatened to jinx you or that the Remembrall was Neville's family heirloom or something. Don't look at me like that. Okay? I don't have time to think of a good excuse. Just … don't get your arse kicked out." Her eyes were pleading.

"I'll try my best," Harry gave her a tiny salute, as he walked off with McGonagall, who was sprouting phrases like "Never in all my time … how dare you … broken neck," and more.

Lia almost flung herself at Malfoy again, at the sight of his smug expression. Tracey, who knew her too well, hung firmly onto her arm, and she stayed rooted to the spot, only able to glare at the blonde halfwit.

If Harry was expelled for his actions, he'd be dead before he could cry to daddy.


	7. Harry's Suspicions (Year 1)

Lia shivered. As fall gave way to winter, Hogwarts had gradually become frostier and frostier.

It was alarmingly cold, even despite the thick woollen coat that she had flung across her shoulders during the seconds before she'd burst out of her room, realising that she had been late to meet Harry, Ron and Hermione. Her cheeks were now flushed from her run down to the yards, her hair whipping wildly in the wind.

Lia made a mental note to teach herself a warming spell next time, or at the very least buy some more sweaters. She didn't want hypothermia. She supposed that she could make a fire, but she had no container to put it in. And it wouldn't really work on the snowy ground, would it?

It was the beginning of the new Quidditch season, and on Saturday her brother would be playing against Slytherin.

It was pretty unfortunate that he was up against her own house for his very first match. Marcus Flint was renowned for his aggression, and his team was made up of burly, grunting boys that wouldn't hesitate to commit a foul as long if they thought that it would give them an advantage.

Lia was also having a hard time dallying between Harry and her new Slytherin friends. Some, like Tracey, had accepted that regardless of how hard they tried to push and persuade, Lia wasn't going to just ditch her brother because of some stupid house rivalry that had existed long before she was even born.

On the other hand, Lia was also unwilling to lose the relationships and standing she had gained in Slytherin house. She was close enough now with Tracey that she could trust her fully, and she thought that Caroline and Selene usually had her back; but she didn't expect any of them to be happy if she started cheering for Harry in the match.

It was just so hard.

At first, most of the Slytherins had been more than happy to torment a Potter. Their harassment had lasted for about a week, before Lia had finally snapped, lost it, and sent Blaise Zabini and Millicent Bulstrode to the hospital wing, transfigured into half-human half-slug monsters. It had taken another delightfully humorous week before Madam Pomfrey had been able to reverse the effects of the hex. Better yet, since Lia had carefully made sure that Zabini and Bulstrode would be able to find no evidence against her, she got off scot-free.

After that, the Slytherin bullies had been sure to be more careful with their words, and had mainly stayed out of her way. Once, Zabini had even given her a look of grudging admiration and asked her what incantation she had used. Lia obviously wasn't going to be so stupid as to tell him. She'd basically be asking Blaise to use the spell against her, so she had just given him a girlish wink. He'd looked flabbergasted.

Malfoy and Parkinson were another story entirely though. She didn't think that she would ever be free from the two's incessant yapping in her ear. They'd tried so much: hexing her behind corridors, which had worked the first time, but their glee quickly faded when Lia said the counter-hex about five seconds later (To avoid having that happen again, Lia now walked around with her wand in her hand in case she had to cast a split second shield charm); snapping insults every time they saw her, although Lia always had a wittier comeback up her sleeve; and now they were tripping her over before class.

It was a bit pathetic.

One time, they had even attempted to get some older Slytherin boys to intimidate her, but Lia could be scary, and now they trembled every time she made eye contact with her. Lia had even learnt how to do a simple stinging jinx without her wand, in case a miracle happened, and they were actually smart enough to think of disarming her.

She had to admit, the good thing about being Malfoy's enemy was that she was constantly pushed to work harder, to learn more spells, so she could always be able to defend herself.

Quirrell had even remarked on the fact that her skill in Defence Against the Dark Arts was at a fourth year level. After seeing her send a book flying through the brick wall of his classroom from a mere, 'Flipendo', or knockback jinx, he had told her to see Snape about her timetable, and find if she could sit in on another class with the older students.

Harry had been famous as soon as he stepped foot in the school. But Lia was now rapidly making a name for herself as well. Now, when people talked about her brother, she wasn't always exempt from the conversation. She thought that a lot of people might have been scared of her – she was a Slytherin, they were notorious for their cruelty, and even though this was her first year, she was able to perform an assortment of somewhat dangerous spells.

She had heard the whispers in the corridors. Some admiring. Some envious. Some fearful. And some angry.

Graham Montague had remarked on how it was ever possible that a girl with a mudblood mother could become so formidable. Lia had been offended, but also a bit satisfied when she'd heard that he'd called her 'formidable'. Considering that it was Montague, Lia almost took it as a compliment. Of course, he had called Lily Evans a mudblood, so no-one was particularly shocked when his hair magically became white as snow the next day, and he sprouted a curling white moustache to match.

Hermione had been jealous of Lia at first. She didn't understand how she had time to study and learn all these incantations when she was always running around pranking Malfoy or teasing Harry. Lia had told her, when Hermione finally found the courage to confront her, that she wasn't actually that smart. Not as smart as her, at least. And she had shown her a copy of her History of Magic grades as proof. She had gotten a 'dreadful' on the previous, hastily written, last-minute essay.

"I'm just good with magic," Lia had said candidly. "Nothing else really. I think I do despise numbers and dates. And Binns bores me to death."

Her eyes had then lit up. "I know! How about this. Hermione, you tutor me in Astronomy, History of Magic and Herbology. So then, I'll help you with Transfiguration, Potions, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. It would be perfect! You in?"

Her friend had nodded swiftly.

"Although I'm not really sure if you need any help." Lia laughed. "Not from me at least."

"Don't be modest," Hermione had said.

Presently, Lia, Harry, Ron and Hermione were strolling through the courtyard. It was quite chilly out, but Lia wouldn't give up the opportunity to spend time with his brother's group. Besides, Tracey was sick, Daphne was preoccupied with sucking up to Pansy, and Caroline and Selene were off doing god knows what. Hermione had conjured up a bright blue fire, that they'd put into a jam jar. She had used a spell that Lia had taught her.

It was at the exact moment when she had pressed her hands against the sides of the jar, seeking a moment of warm bliss, that Snape crossed the yard and saw them.

Lia didn't really know how she felt about the hook-nosed professor. On one hand, he hated Harry for no real identifiable reason, all the while treating Draco like he was the Prince of England. On the other, he wasn't horrid to her, and he had admitted half-heartedly that the Potter girl wasn't as much of a failure as her brother.

Lia thought that he was sometimes torn between his desire to give points to his own house (for Lia's potions were always immaculate, and deserving of praise), and his apparent rampant loathing of anyone whose last name was 'Potter'. Lia knew this from the multiple times that he had insulted James Potter to Harry's face, during which her brother would always be unable to hold back his temper. She wasn't sure how he managed to finish his homework, with all the detentions he got.

With the care and detail that Lia put into her potion making, with the patience and dedication that surprised even her, the biased Snape had to give her points for her hard work. Unfortunately, he had found himself a solution to his conundrum and now often took the liberty of pairing her with Malfoy during group work. His ability in potions was alright (quite good if she was honest), so Snape could just give Malfoy points for their combined finished work, whilst ignoring Lia. She supposed it could be worse, and she was thankful that Pansy's skill in potions was almost as bad as her looks.

Malfoy wouldn't really talk to her much in potions class. One time, he had accidentally brushed his hand against hers, jumped back as if he'd been burned, and glared at Lia like it was somehow her fault.

"Don't worry, Malfoy," she had said, feeling a tad vexed. "I don't think it's possible for you to catch anything that you're not already suffering from."

Overall, Lia was still reserving her judgment on Snape. He was a peculiar man, and she wanted to wait until she finally got to the bottom of things. No one could hate someone, at least not the way Snape hated Harry, unless there was some reason, some backstory. Moreover, she sometimes saw the professor look at her with stunned recognition before he shook his head and walked off.

Now, with Lia's hair down, and billowing across her face, and her eyes liquid gold from the happiness that only true friendship could give her, Snape had indeed thought that she had resembled a woman he had once known.

"But it couldn't be," he wondered, shaking his head. He walked over to the four. They were all looking awfully suspicious.

As he crossed the yard, Lia noticed that he was limping - leaning slightly harder on one of his legs.

"What is it that you've got there, Potter?" he demanded.

Harry showed him his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages.

"Library books are not to be taken outside the school," Snape said coldly. "Hand it over. And five points from Gryffi-."

"Professor," Lia said, faking embarrassment and hesitancy, cutting Snape off before he could finish. She knew that he wouldn't be able to bare to take points away from his beloved house. "That's actually my book. I thought it might be beneficial to read up, you know. Before our first game on Saturday! I'm sorry for breaking any rules. I can really be quite scatter-brained." She shot her best puppy eyes up at Snape.

He looked aggravated. "Don't do it again. This is a warning, Miss Potter." Snape spun around and walked off, with a slight stagger.

"Thanks," Harry said, once the potions master was out of earshot.

"What are sisters for?"

"He must have made that rule up," Harry mumbled.

"Did you see his leg though?" Lia asked. "He was limping."

"Good," Ron said, who still bitter about Snape's blatant prejudice against Harry. "I hope it's really hurting him."

At night in her common room, Lia checked over the piece of parchment by her desk and saw that a new sentence marled the paper, in her brother's messy scrawl. She had enchanted it, the corresponding page placed in Harry's room, so that they would be able to communicate at night during emergencies, despite the fact that their common rooms were spread far apart.

"Meet me in front of the Gryffindor common room tomorrow at 6:45am. We must talk about S," it said.

Lia pondered for a minute. S would probably be Snape. She suspected that Harry had found another piece of 'evidence' against him. She thought that Snape was probably up to something as equally mysterious as it was suspicious, but she didn't believe for one second that he was actually evil at heart. She didn't completely understand why she had this opinion, but her gut and her heart told her that the professor was innocent.

Lia's suspicions were proven right the next morning when Harry launched into a long rant about how he had heard Snape talking to Filch.

"Do you know what this means," Harry said. He was breathless, and currently waved his arms around like a chicken. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That's where he was going when we saw him - he's after whatever it's guarding! And I'd bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!"

Lia yawned. "I can't believe I woke up half an hour early just to hear your paranoid rambling. For gods' sake, Snape's a _professor_. I highly doubt he's trying to … I don't know. Unleash destruction? What is it you think he's doing anyway? And besides, he can't have let that troll in. He was sitting just beside Dumbledore, remember?"

"No," Harry said stubbornly.

"In fact," she continued, "The only person not present at the feast was … was Quirrell," Lia trailed off. But it couldn't be Quirrell now, could it? That was certainly a laughable idea. The man didn't look like he could harm a butterfly. Let alone be brave enough to make eye contact with a troll.

But then again, looks could be deceiving. She should know that.

For example, Malfoy looked decent when you first saw him. But, no. The illusion would be all ruined when he spoke in that annoying high pitched, whiny voice. Then you'd realise that the boy was just completely full of crap.

Harry's voice broke her train of thought. "You have to believe me Lia. I'm telling you he's up to something. And I need your help to stop him!"

"I know, I know. I believe you, Harry. Well, mostly. I do think Snape's planning something. Look. I'll promise to keep an eye out okay? And I'll tell you as soon as possible if I see anything worth mentioning. Now, look at the time! We have to go to breakfast."

"Alright," Harry said, but he didn't look completely appeased.

The two siblings walked off in the direction of the Great Hall.


	8. Exams and Quirrelling (Year 1)

"Oi, Pansy," Lia called. "Yes, you. Yes, I'm speaking to you. Look, stop smearing that thing all over your face okay? It's embarrassing for everyone. You do realise that makeup isn't going to fix your stupidity?"

Haginson's face was set in an eternal glower, as she huffed and puffed in anger. She reminded Lia of that time when she'd left a bag of popcorn she'd found in the microwave for far too long, and it had blown up with air and exploded, blackened corn kernels flying everywhere. Vernon had been furious. Lia hoped that when she exploded, and Parkinson undoubtedly would one day, she wouldn't have to clean the pug-faced girl's gloopy brain bits off her robes.

She felt a bit guilty. After all, this time Pansy had done nothing to provoke her. Well, that wasn't exactly true - the simple knowledge that Parkinson was alive and at Hogwarts provoked her. But usually Lia wasn't the one that insulted first. Today? She couldn't help it. She was in an awful mood.

She absentmindedly raised up a shield charm as Pug-face predictably sent a hex flying her way. Realising that her spell hadn't worked, Pansy huffed again in indignation and stomped off. This was normally the part where Lia would have laughed. If only her scar hadn't been bothering her so much.

It was during exam period, and it was her first year at Hogwarts so she was determined to do well. She wasn't going to fail any of her classes like she had one year at her old muggle school. Therefore, lately she'd foregone her pranks.

Although she'd just had to wrap it up for the school year with a rather brilliant one that had left Draco's hair bright pink, and his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, swollen like balloons, so that they miraculously became even fatter than they had been. She had heard a rumour that Madam Pomfrey was forced to actually prick the boys with a needle, so that they would finally deflate and stop floating around the hospital wing.

"Owww," Lia hissed. Her hand rubbed the 'S' shaped scar on her right upper arm.

When she'd asked Hagrid how she'd gotten that scar, he had shrugged and said, "You-Know-Who must'a wanted to make a' example out of you. You know? Harry's sister an' all. Probably from one of his curses, that scar is."

Prior to the past few weeks, she had actually been quite proud of that reddish mark. The Slytherins had all looked mighty impressed when they'd seen it. All, except Pansy, but she was always too jealous for her own good. Even Malfoy had looked fleetingly interested, before he caught himself. 'S' _was_ the symbol of her house, and Lia had always adored snakes.

"You must be a true Slytherin," a boy called Theodore Nott had gasped. Lia had been surprised. Nott rarely spoke, and when he did? It was never to her. She had smiled in what she had hoped to be a friendly, welcoming manner to him.

Not surprisingly, however, Malfoy had butted in and snorted, "True Slytherin my ass. Did you all forget that she's a halfblood?"

Then quite a few people had looked uncomfortable, rubbed their necks or scratched at an invisible spot, and the moment of house bonding was over. Ruined by Mopefoy. He was probably jealous he didn't have a cool scar as well.

Although she half-wished she could give the bloody mark to him right now. It had been bothering her all day, and it was stopping her from properly concentrating on her exams. The stupid thing kept sending stabbing pains up her arm. She had been about to use a numbing spell on her arm, until she realised that she was right-handed, and she'd have to handwrite with a quill for her morning exams.

Lia wasn't entirely confident with how she'd gone in her written papers. She'd hopefully be able to scrape at least an 'Acceptable' in History of Magic, thanks to Hermione's help, but she was semi-sure she'd gone completely off topic in her essay about 'Emeric the Evil'. She had written for far too long, and far too much, about his possession of the Elder Wand. The idea of the wand intrigued her.

At least her practicals had gone just fine. She had never been too worried about that. Making a pineapple tap-dance? No problem. And even McGonagall had complimented her on the mouse she transfigured. She'd said that it was one of the prettiest she'd ever seen.

Potions had been alright. She'd been next to Goyle, who kept trying to look over and copy what she was doing, and even though Snape walked around breathing down everyone's necks and making them all uncomfortable and unable to concentrate, he had just ignored Goyle's cheating, which was unfairly unfair.

After everything had been done and dusted, and a Hufflepuff girl had broken down in tears, the exams were thankfully over. Now, Lia was beside Harry, Ron and Hermione, sprawling beneath the shade of a lakeside tree. She had discussed some answers with Hermione, but had found that it just made her even more anxious.

"Harry," Lia said, as she took a good look at her brother. "I don't mean to be rude. But, you look kind of awful."

"Same goes for you," Harry replied.

Lia sighed. "It's just that stupid scar." She pointed at the 'S' accusingly. "It just won't stop hurting."

Harry's jaw opened. "Mine too! It's happened before … but never as often as this."

Upon hearing this, she gulped, "I suspected as such. Listen, Harry. Our scars were given to us by the same wizard. It's quite a coincidence that they're both hurting, right?" She shook her head. "No. Not a coincidence, I'd say. These were remnants of curses … I … I think it might be a warning."

"A warning that danger's coming," Harry finished.

"Exactly."

"Come on, you two. Don't be such worrywarts. The stone will be fine as long as Dumbledore's around. Even Snape can't get past anything on his watch. And he's not going to try again that soon after he got his leg ripped open by Fluffy." Ron looked very lazy lounging on the soft grass.

Lia had opened his mouth to tell them once again tell them that she didn't think that Snape was behind this. But a sudden prickly sensation told her she was missing something, or forgetting something important. An awful thought was blooming in her mind, when right in synch, Harry leapt up.

"I've thought of something," he said. His eyes met Lia's and they both grew pale.

"We have to see Hagrid. Now," she said.

"What?" Hermione panted, struggling to keep up as Lia and Harry had broken off into a sprint, "Why?"

"Don't you think it's a bit odd?" Harry questioned. He was climbing up the slope now. "That what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think?"

Lia shook her head angrily. "Merlin. Why didn't I think of this before?"

Harry and her were right of course. It was as they had feared. In his naivety, Hagrid had gone and told a complete stranger about Fluffy and how to tame the beast. Lia had to admit that it was a brilliant plan on the stranger's behalf. He or she had been able to play on Hagrid's most devastating weakness – his love of magical creatures. But now, it had really left them in a bit of a sticky situation.

Lia's mind whirled as she contemplated their best next course of action. "We have to go to Dumbledore," she said as they entered Hogwarts' halls once more.

Harry nodded. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak - it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him."

"Harry," Lia said warily, "I _really_ don't think it could have been Snape."

"We'll see soon, won't we? Does anyone know where Dumbledore's office is?"

They were all stumped.

"We're screwed," Lia said enthusiastically. "Should I prepare my eulogy now? Or wait until Voldemort kills Harry first?"

Her brother glared at her.

"What? Don't give me that look. I know it's upsetting. But everyone knows that you'd be the first to go. You're the only one that's managed to escape his grasp."

It was then that Professor McGonagall walked past. Her gaze skimmed over each of them one by one. Lia broke off her staring competition with Harry, who was looking at her like she'd gone bonkers, to smile innocently at the was a bad call, for McGonagall appeared even more distrustful of them. "What are you four doing inside?"

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione looked nervous, but her voice was steady and clear when she spoke. Lia thought that the three of them had negatively affected Hermione's rule-abiding nature. Look at her now! Ordering authority around like that.

"Professor Dumbledore?" McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Why?" Her stare rested on Lia. "Is there a problem?"

"It's kind of a secret," Harry said. Lia wanted to face palm. Why couldn't Harry think before he spoke? Did he actually not realise how fishy he sounded?

Anyway, as McGonagall spoke, she found that she needn't have worried. They wouldn't be able to see the headmaster either way. Dumbledore was gone. Apparently he'd gotten an owl and now he was off, flying to London.

"Ten minutes," Lia said. "Ten freaking minutes earlier and we could have met him." She cursed herself for not running faster. "I bet it wasn't even a real owl. It's probably a decoy. A distraction. So he's out of the way."

"Now what?" Ron said, growing worried. "He won't be back until tomorrow!"

"I think I know what to do. Hermione, you need to tail Snape. Watch where he's going and follow after him," Harry said.

"Why me?"

"Isn't it obvious? Just say that you're waiting for Flitwick. Oh my, Professor. Oh Professor Flitwick," Ron said in a terribly fake imitation of Hermione. "I think I'm going to faint. I just know that I got Question 13 E wrong!"

Hermione punched Ron lightly on the arm. "Shut up … and I'll have you know, there was no 13 e on the exam!"

Lia rolled her eyes. "Get a room you two." She didn't wait to see the mutual disgust on their faces and looked at Harry. "And you. How many times do I need to tell you. This. Is. Not. Snape's. Doing. Are my words finally getting through that thick skull of yours?"

"How can you still say that, Lia? You saw what he was doing at the quidditch match!"

"Yes … but. Well it could have been anyone, you don't know for sure. Look, okay. Yes that was suspicious. But. I can't explain ... it but it's not him! There were so many people on that stand when Hermione knocked Quirrell over and set fire…" she trailed off mid sentence.

Quirrell. It was like alarm bells began resonating in her head. Quirrell had been there at the Quidditch game. Oh, why hadn't she payed attention to what he was doing? She'd been too busy being worried for Harry and scared for Hermione. He'd been the one Snape had been threatening in that corner too. Could it be that …? Did Snape believe that Quirrell was Voldemort? Dumbledore trusted Snape after all, and if Snape was loyal to Dumbledore, he would surely be protecting Harry.

It was a long shot. But to Lia, Quirrell sounded a lot more like the culprit than Snape. But she knew her brother would never believe her. Harry hated Snape too much and she thought that he was almost hoping that Snape was indeed Voldemort. It would give him more reason to despise the professor.

"I have to go," Lia gasped out. "I think … I think I have a lead." She pulled a pin out of her pocket and passed it to Harry. "Look, you won't believe me if I tell you. But if you need me … no before you're going to do something stupid, before you _do_ something stupid, just press it okay? I'll come find you." She paused. "And probably hit you over the head for being an idiot."

For the rest of that afternoon and night, Lia tried desperately to search for Quirrell.

Hagrid had told her that Quirrell was probably teaching a class in room 3C on the third floor. But when she'd gotten there, it had been empty, so she'd gone up to Class 104 in the North Tower, where she typically had her classes with the professor. She'd found a wizard she didn't recognise there. He'd taken five points from Slytherin when she barged in on him, mid-lecture, and multiple pairs of eyes had swerved to gaze curiously at her. She hadn't knocked. After apologising profusely for interrupting his class, the substitute teacher had frostily informed her that Professor Quirrell had been feeling unwell and was in the hospital wing.

When she got there, Madam Pomfrey told her in a regretful tone that no, she hadn't seen the teacher all day. So, Lia had gone back to the North Tower. The substitute teacher was obviously new, so perhaps he had been confused? She met Trelawney on the stairs up, who had told her in a solemn voice, that she was going to die tonight. Lia had smiled and asked if she'd happened to see Quirrell, to which the divination professor had replied in an even graver tone, that her inner eye had 'seen' Quirrell and that he was to die that night too.

After questioning every teacher that she could find, and even trying to slip into the door containing Fluffy (She had stopped after she saw McGonagall, who looked even more furious than usual. For Lia knew that the professor would never in a million years allow her to pass through on her watch and she was not keen to lose points for Slytherin if there was no purpose to it), she had to admit that she had failed.

Quirrell was most likely stealing the Philosopher's Stone now, and she would have to wait until nighttime when she could sneak into Fluffy's room. She thought about Harry's cloak. All four of them would not be able to fit under it. It was too small to cover everyone, and Harry and Ron were growing taller. She could just see Harry telling her that it was too dangerous, that she should go back, that they wouldn't fit, that if she went with them the teachers would find them all.

Lia scowled. What to do? Well, she was going to have to learn an invisibility charm now. She'd used one before. But only once. And it had been on something as small as a pencil. A human being, even a child like her, would be much more difficult. She looked at the clock. She estimated that she had around two hours to learn how to cast it. That, or Harry would probably get himself killed without her. But, perhaps Hermione could stop him from being totally reckless? But Lia didn't feel like being left out this night.

"Let's do this," she whispered to her wand.


	9. Towards Moldy Voldy (Year 1)

"Watch it Ron!" Lia snapped. "You just stamped your fat foot on my shoe. Again!"

"Well I'm sorry!" he said sarcastically. "It's not my fault, I can't see you. So unless you have some special charm for night vision or you want to stop being invisible, I suggest you to just put up with it."

"You should know, Ronald, that if I could actually see you right now, your face would be sporting a nice beautiful new bruise."

"Oh really huh? I remember what you said last week. What was it again? Oh yeah. 'I'd slap you but I don't want to make your face look any better'. What happened to that?"

"Maybe I'm feeling kind today. Mayb-"

"Will. You. Two. Shut. It." Harry hissed. "In case it escaped your notice, we're risking our lives right now! So unless you two are looking to die … shut your traps."

Ron murmured an apology, whilst Lia snickered. "Always so dramatic," she said. "I didn't realise it was possible to die from talking, my dear darling brother. Look, there's the door." She swore suddenly.

"It's open."

"Snape must already be past Fluffy," Harry cursed too.

The sight of the half ajar door seemed to fill all four of them with dread. Their bickering moments beforehand seemed childish now, as the reality of what they might be facing crashed down.

"Look. If you want to go back. I don't blame you. You can have my cloak. Or you can do your invisibility spell, Lia. It's too dangerous"

"I'm sorry Harry," Lia said. "I don't think I got that. Ron, you'll have to translate. I don't speak idiot."

"Lia," Hermione said slowly. It sounded like she was warning her.

"What, Hermy? Notice how I didn't mention you? I think you're pretty smart. And pretty too," Lia smiled.

"Lia."

She sighed. "Okay. Okay. I'm sorry. For real this time. I know this is serious. I'm just petrified so I'm trying to cover it up like this." It was one of her rare moments of honesty. She saw that Harry was opening his mouth. "And no Harry. I'm not going back just because I'm scared. I'd hate to think of what would happen to you lot without me. Besides. I'm kind of curious to see Voldemort. I wonder if he's as ugly as they say?"

"Maybe you _can_ talk the dark lord to death," Harry said. He pushed open the door. "Your voice is maddening enough."

"What's that? There, at it's feet!" Hermione whispered.

"It's a harp. Snape must have left it there."

Lia scoffed, "As if Snape can play the harp." She had a mental image of him dressed in Greek toga, a crown of leaves resting on his oily hair, a glass of wine in one hand, as he delicately plucked the instrument with the other.

Harry ignored her. "That dog must wake up when you stop playing." He pulled out Hagrid's flute and blew a soft tune. Immediately, Fluffy's head slumped back, the growls it had previously been emitting ceased, and its eyes fell back into their lids.

"Keep playing," Ron urged.

"What musical talent!" exclaimed Lia. Harry scowled.

"I think we can get the door open. Want to go first?" Ron asked, pointing to Hermione.

"No!" Hermione replied, "What happened to chivalry?"

"Chivalry is dead," said Lia seriously.

"Ladies first," said Ron.

"Alright, alright. I'll go." Lia moved closer to the trapdoor and sat on the edge, ready to swing herself down.

"Wait!" said Harry. "I should go first."

"Pffft. No! Go away! This is my moment of honour." She stuck out her tongue. "Don't you know that I'm only honourable when you're around? And don't be such a Gryffindor. You're not _that_ brave."

"I'm your brother. Your older brother."

Lia paused. "How do you know you're older?"

"Hagrid told me."

"No, he didn't."

"Yes, he did."

"No he di-"

"Alright he didn't. I lied." He stopped, searching for words. "But I'm more mature. And Lia," His expression was promptly sombre, "I could never live with myself if something happened to you."

Lia's eyes softened. "Aw. That was just like a quote out of a movie. Come on. Since when did you worry about me? It's always been the other way round. And actually … why are you worrying in fact? Let's be real. I'm better at magic. If whatever done there is dangerous, I'll probably be more equipped to handle it than you."

Harry swallowed. "At least you got that right. If Snape can do it. You can too, Lia."

Lia sighed. "I told you. It's. Not. Snape … If I die, tell Pansy and Malfoy that I hate them, okay? And tell Tracey that she was an average friend." With that, she gave a small shove and let herself fall into the hole.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself to drop into the mouth of a giant sea monster and get crushed by its sharp elongated incisors. When nothing happened, she dared to peek open one eye.

"LIA!" Harry yelled. "What's happening…? Where are you? Hello? Lia…? What's going on? LIA! HELLO? ANSWER ME GODDAMNIT!"

"It's okay! It's okay. You can come down."

Harry went first, then Ron, and finally Hermione, who was still playing a low note on the flute, even as she fell through the trapdoor. Lia raised an eyebrow at her.

"Can't be too careful," she said.

It was then that Lia finally chose to look down. She gasped. Oh dear. She really should have made sure that she was more aware of her surroundings, before she had urged the others to jump too.

"Um, guys?" she whispered.

"Lucky this plant thing's here, really," Ron said.

Lia would have laughed, had she not been terrified.

"Lucky? Lucky!" screamed Hermione. "Look at us!" Ron and Harry looked down and their eyes widened as they saw that their legs had been enwrapped by thick tendrils. "Honestly Ron, were you born this stupid or did you take lessons?"

"Damn, Hermione," Lia whistled. "I'm impressed." But she couldn't be too impressed, since she realised that the tendrils were quickly moving up her hips, soon latching onto her waist. "Ah!" she yelled. "Hermione. I think we studied this in herbology once. This is … god what was it called? The one that wraps tighter when you move?"

Her friend clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh! I know! It's Devil's Snare."

"Oh, woah, just great. It's so helpful knowing the name of the plant. WHEN I'M ABOUT TO DIE!" Ron was cussing again.

"Ron!" Lia yelled. "Harry!"

"Stop moving," ordered Hermione. "And shut up Ron. I'm trying to think."

"HOW CAN I STOP MOVING!" He was panicking. "I'm going to be squeezed to death!" He swore. "I bet Fred and George are going to have a right laugh about this. Hugged to death by a plant!"

"I can't breathe," Harry gasped.

"Hermione," Lia said slowly. "Hurry the heck up."

"Ohhh …. Ohhhhh … Merlin. What did Professor Sprout say? What was it? Oh ... I can't think! What was it? ... Devil's Snare likes the dark and the damp."

"Light a fire then!" Harry managed to choke out.

"Yes, yes, that's right … but how … how?" Hermione cried. "THERE'S NO MATCH!" She looked close to tears.

"ARE YOU MAD?" Ron roared. "ARE YOU A WITCH?"

It was at precisely that second, that Lia had finally relaxed her body enough, so that she was able to wriggle slightly out of the Devil's Snare's firm grasp, and gain enough mobility so that she could at least grab out her wand and point it at the plant.

"Incendio," she chanted. A streak of fire whipped out from the end of her wand. It was only seconds before the plant had hid itself from the light and moved far away enough that they were able to shake the remaining tendrils off their bodies, and finally pull free from its grasp.

Lia swore loudly. "Never again."

"Good thing you pay attention in Herbology, Hermione." Harry said. "And good that you know your spells, Lia."

"Yeah," Ron snorted. "And lucky that most of us don't lose our heads in a crisis – there's no match, honestly, can't even…"

Lia laughed. "You weren't exactly much better, Ron. How. Can. I. Stop. Moving," she grunted the words out, as if she were a caveman. "Hugged to death by a plant!" she then said in a feminine tone. She pretended to faint and proceeded to double over laughing.

"This way," Harry said. He pointed down a passageway, carved out of stone. It looked to be the only way forward.

As they walked, Lia listened carefully. There was definitely water dripping down the walls. Were they under the Great Lake then? But the Slytherin common room was partly under that lake too wasn't it? How funny would it be if her roommates were just bricks away from her? She then imagined that Malfoy was there, and she could quickly think of a perfect jinx for him.

"Oi. Can you hear me?" she almost murmured.

"Do you hear something?" Ron whispered. Lia blanched. She hadn't said that thought out loud had she? But no, as she strained her ears to listen, there was a rustling sound, it was faintly like wind rustling through a thin curtain, or even … wings beating, if she wasn't wrong. As the four entered the room, they were surrounded by an array of strange-looking, glittering birds that soared around chaotically.

Lia stared entranced at the birds, while the other three struggled with the door. It didn't look like the old, heavy thing was going to open.

"Guys!" She'd had a sudden realisation, "Don't waste your efforts. That door's not going to move. Not until we find the key at least. Come here! Look! They're not birds. They're keys!"

"We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one – probably silver, like the handle is," said Ron, flicking his eyes between the keys and the door.

"Ron!" Lia faked awe. "Keep talking, someday you might just say something intelligent!" Then she pulled out her wand. "Accio old key."

At least half of the keys changed direction and zoomed at her. Although they'd looked rusty before, now, they all had sharp edges. The keys looked ready to impale her.

"Protego!" Lia barely had time to draw up the shield charm as they grew nearer. As the keys touched the protective barrier, they bounced off, harmless, and flew about aimlessly once more.

"You were saying?" smirked Ron.

"Shut up," said Lia. "Maybe if I try 'oldest key'?"

She didn't have to worry about getting almost killed by flying inanimate objects again. At least in the confusion of the keys all soaring out at Lia, Harry had had time to grab the large silver one with the roughly bent wing, as he chased after it on the broomstick. He put the struggling thing into the lock, and thankfully, it clicked and the door swung open.

"Chess," Lia groaned. "Oh, it's chess."

"I think," Ron said. "We have to be chessmen. Now don't be offended, I'm not being rude. But none of you are really that great at chess b-"

"And the idiot is back," Lia said, "Please, instruct me, your stupidness."

"We're not offended," Harry replied rapidly. "Tell us what we need to do."

"Alright, Lia you need to go and stand beside that bishop. Harry you go to the other bishop. Yes, that one on the other side. And Hermione, you go next to him as that castle."

"What about you?"

"I think I'll be a knight."

Apparently the chess pieces had ears and could somehow listen, for those four exact pieces that Ron had pointed to, moved off of the board, so that they could now replace them. Lia waited patiently as Ron directed the black pieces. It was an intense game - every time a spot was lost; the opposing side would smash the taken piece to smithereens.

Ron then continued to have the 'marvellous' idea of sacrificing himself. Everyone was taking it really well.

"Ron. Don't be daft. You can't," said Lia. "That's the dumbest idea I've heard yet. You can't sacrifice yourself."

Lia wondered what would have happened if everyone here was a Slytherin. Maybe they could have put McGonagall under the imperius curse. But she didn't think anyone in first year could do that spell yet. Even she couldn't. But then, many of them did have older siblings. Or they could always ask Montague. Or Flint. Those boys probably already knew the cruciatus curse, let alone 'Imperio'.

"It's chess. You have to make sacrifices." Ron pointed to the board. "If the queen takes me. Then you'll have a clear path to checkmate the king, Harry."

"Ron-"

"You have to hurry up. He could already have the stone."

Lia met Harry's eyes. She shook her head. She couldn't think of any other alternative.

"Ready?" Ron asked. He looked pale, but his expression was resolute. Lia felt bad for teasing him so much. "I'm going now. You all have to keep moving once this round's over. Go through the door."

She watched in horror as Ron was stuck on the head. He looked as if he had been knocked out. Lia hoped that he didn't have a concussion … or worse. Harry moved one last time. And the game was over. They'd won.

"What if he's-" Hermione whispered as they ran through the passage.

"He's alright," Harry said, trying to at least sound convincing to himself.

The room they entered next was filled with a putrid stench. Lia gagged. There was a troll collapsed on the ground in front of them, a large bump on the creature's head. She let out a slow whistle. "Thank god we didn't have to fight that one."

The three of them moved forward and they were faced with a table: on it lay a variety of bottles of differing shapes, sizes and smells. Over the threshold, two fires suddenly lit up. One for each opposite doorway. Black flames for the doorway leading forward, purple flames for the one leading back.

"We're trapped," Lia looked around.

"This must be Snape's creation," Harry said.

She pulled out a roll of paper that had been lying next to some bottles, and opened it, holding it in her hands so that they could all read though it.

"Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind,

Two of us will help you, which ever you would find,

One among us seven will let you move ahead,

Another will transport the drinker back instead,

Two among our number hold only nettle wine,

Three of us are killers, waiting bidden in line.

Choose, unless you wish to stay here forevermore,

To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four:

First, however slyly the poison tries to hide

You will always find some on nettle wine's left side;

Second, different are those who stand at either end,

But if you would move onward, neither is your friend;

Third, as you see clearly, all are different size,

Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides;

Fourth, the second left and the second on the right

Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."

"It's logic. It's a puzzle," Hermione said. She looked fascinated, happy even.

Lia nodded her head. "It's a shame how few great wizards have logic these days. They'd be stuck here forever."

"We're not going to be stuck here forever too … are we?" Harry asked cautiously.

She scoffed. "What do you take us for? You should be thankful that your friends are both logical." Lia paused. "And great. Read here. Out of these seven bottles. There's two that are wine. Three that are poisoned. One will take us backwards through the purple fire. So back to safety. Back to Ron. Then the last one of them will get us forward though the black flame." She swallowed. "To danger."

"How do we know which one to drink?" Harry demanded.

Hermione and Lia read the paper together multiple times. She thought that she could almost memorise it in her mind. They muttered and discussed together until Hermione finally pulled one out. A small bottle. The smallest bottle.

"This one will get us though the black fire. It'll take you towards the stone," Lia said.

Harry glanced at it. It was a tiny, tiny bottle.

"It's only enough for one person," Harry said. "It's hardly even enough for a swallow."

The three of them looked at each other.

"Which one for the purple flames?" he asked.

Hermione pointed to a round bottle that sat at the right end of the line. Again it was a small bottle. A slight fraction bigger than the one Harry was holding. But small, all the same.

"One of us will have to stay here," Hermione said.

Lia looked at them. "I volunteer," she said. "I volunteer as tribute."

"What?"

"Haven't you watched that movie?"

"This isn't the time!"

"Look guys don't stress. It's going to be alright. Hermione will go through the purple flames, get back to Ron, grab the brooms from the key room and jet off to find Dumbledore. Harry, I know you'll argue with me otherwise, you go through the black flames." She gulped. "Try not to die, will you? And me? I'm going to try to duplicate that potion after you drink it, Harry. I'll join you as soon as I can."

Harry looked a bit shocked. "Usually you'd be the one insisting to go though. To go meet Voldemort."

"I know," she sighed. "I'll have to let you have the privilege first. Give him hell won't you? For killing mum. And dad. And like one thousand other people. I know you Harry, and if I left you here you'd probably poison yourself, or burn to death in your haste to get through the flames."

Harry grinned then, "I'll miss you Lia. And you Hermione. Tell the Dursleys that were the worst adoptive family ever if I die."

"You're not going to die," Lia said.

Hermione's lip trembled and she threw her arms out as she hugged them both.

Lia rolled her eyes at her brother. "And you stole my line."

"Harry, Lia, you're both great wizards, you know," Hermione said

Lia and Harry flushed and they both simultaneously replied, "Not as good as you."

"Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things - friendship and bravery and - oh Lia, oh Harry - be careful!"

"I'm always careful," said Lia. "Not sure about the other Potter though."

"You drink first," Harry said.

Hermione drank from the round bottle immediately shivered.

"Poison?"

"No, no, it just … tastes like ice."

"Well, go. Now! Quickly, before it wears off."

"Good luck. Be careful," Hermione disappeared into the flames.

"Harry," Lia said. She was horrified to find her eyes watering. "Harry, listen to me. I don't care what Voldemort says. What he threatens to do. Don't be noble today okay? Save yourself. Grab the stone and just get out. As fast as you can. I'll meet you there. As fast as I can. I promise."

Harry bit his lip, he looked awkward, and Lia almost laughed at the sight of him.

Ever since he'd been a preschooler he'd never known what to do when girls cried. And now that his sister was crying? His sister, who didn't even shed a tear when her pet rabbit died? Harry looked mortified.

"I love you, Lia," he finally said. He drank all of the tiny bottle up in one go, and disappeared into the black flames.

"Love you too, Harry." A thought lingered in the back of her mind.

"Harry! Harry! HARRY!" She yelled. But it was no use. Her brother had already stepped away past the flames, into the darkness that waited.

"It's Quirrell," Lia said to no one at all. "It has to be. Oh, how could I have forgotten to tell him? Harry must be in for a nasty surprise."

She flung herself at the potions table, and grasped at the empty vial that he had left.

She could spot a tiny droplet of liquid left over in the bottom of the glass. She knew that it wouldn't be enough to protect her. She just needed a way. A way to multiple the potion.

Of course! A doubling charm!

She started working on it right away.


	10. Two-Faced Quirrell (Year 1)

"HARRY!" she roared. "Harry! Are you there? It's not Snape ... It's not Snape. Quirrell. It's Quirrell." Lia burst past the flames, panting. She could feel her body burning up again, and she looked down. A corner of her robe was being consumed by a licking flame. "Crap," she said. "Um … what was it again? Yes, Aguamenti".

She heard a voice demand in the distance, "Well? What do you see?"

"Harry?" she called, hastily continuing forward.

"Lia, shut up!" She almost sunk down in relief at her brother's voice. He sounded irritated and reprimanding, but she detected the underlying tone of fear in his voice. Fear for her. That had to mean that it was _him_ \- it was really Voldemort. "Could you have been anymore obvious? Why didn't you use your invisibility charm?"

"Harry? Harry, I'm coming! And honestly, if it's Voldemort, you think he wouldn't be able to see through that simple charm?"

She finally caught up to him.

Harry stood in front of a mirror. Lia eyed it. The Mirror of Erised by the looks of it. Quirrell was close behind him, an angry, impatient expression on his face. He looked different. He was standing far straighter than he ever had in class, making him appear taller, and the way he held himself up spoke of determination, of resolve and purpose.

"Finally," Lia thought, "He finally looks like one of Voldemort's followers."

"Ha," she said. "I told you Harry. Told you it wasn't Snape!" Her voice was smug, almost gleeful. As she said this though, Quirrell raised his wand and a thick strand of rope flung out and latched onto Lia, binding her, and sending her crashing to the ground.

"Well?" Quirrell demanded again to Harry, this time harsher, more desperately, "What do you see?"

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," Harry said. "I … I've won the house cup for Gryffindor." Lia could tell that he was bluffing, but it was actually a pretty good fib. Anyone who didn't know Harry well would think he was telling the truth.

"He lies … he lies …" Anyone except Voldemort that is. Lia felt a sick sprouting terror take hold at the sound of that high voice. There was an unbearable cruelty to it, a darkness that thrashed at the edges of the notes.

"The girl … use the girl," it said.

Quirrell sauntered over to Lia and yanked her roughly to her feet. "Well look who it is," he said, "Little Miss Daliah Potter."

"Potter ... Potter ... no ... she lies," the high voice said again, hissing this time. "The Potters are dead ... only Harry remains."

"What? No, I … I swear. I'm Daliah Potter. Geez. You think I'd know my own name, wouldn't I?"

She felt a throbbing in her head, as if someone was rummaging through a storage room, peering and searching through the files in her mind, looking for something. She knew with horror that Voldemort was penetrating her memories.

It was lucky that by then Lia had somehow managed to burn off the ropes that encircled her. She didn't stop to think. Quirrell had taken her wand, but she pressed one hand on the man's arm and summoning all the energy that she had left, sent a stinging jinx at her past professor. She watched with relish as ugly welts burst up Quirrell's skin and he howled in pain. The aching in her head had ceased.

"Why you insolent girl," he spat. "Avada Ked-"

"No!" Voldemort's voice hollered at exactly the same time that Harry had screamed, "Lia!" Quirrell winced and shrunk away in fright at the anger in his master's voice. "Don't kill her … Take her … Take her to the mirror."

She was shoved again, Quirrell pushing Harry out of the way, so that now Lia stood before the Mirror of Erised.

"What do you see?"

Lia stared at the mirror. She was there, reflected in it, but it was a taller, more beautiful version of herself. The bags under her eyes had disappeared and her face held none of that childish plumpness. It was angular now, her eyelashes darker, cheekbones higher and her mouth plumper. Her hair hung prettily down her shoulders.

By her right side, was an older woman. She too, had the same gleaming, lustrous golden eyes. Unlike Lia, whose hair was dark though, the woman's reminded her of strands of spun gold, shining and brilliant in the light.

She realised with a shock that this was her mother. It had to be. The resemblance was uncanny. Not Lily Potter. Not Lily like she'd been told so many times. She wasn't even a Potter then. Was she? What was she? Who was she? Lia couldn't tear her eyes away from the image shown to her. She was drawn in with yearning and marvel.

As she watched, the woman tilted her head back and laughed, looking behind her, her lips opened as if she were calling someone. A figure drew closer from the background. She couldn't see clearly yet, but Lia thought that she made out dark hair, the exact shade as her own, and a tall, slender male body. She realised that her own eyes were watering with unshed tears.

There was a sudden smack. Lia winced and clutched at her cheek. It was turning an ugly shade of red, for Quirrell had hit her hard across the face. She reluctantly tore her gaze away from the mirror.

"What. Do. You. See?" his voice was thunderous.

"I … I …" Lia stammered. What had she seen? "I think it was my family," she said truthfully. Harry gazed at her wet eyes and bewilderment with worry. He was struggling against the chains Quirrell had wrapped around him.

The high voice rang out in the room again. "Let me speak to them … face-to-face …"

"Face-two-face," Lia thought.

"Master! You are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough … for this …"

Harry and Lia were rooted to the spot, as if they had been petrified by fear and anticipation. Quirrell slowly unwrapped the turban he had never before taken off from his head, and gradually turned around to face them.

Lia bit back a scream. The face growing on the back of what should have been Quirrell's head ... was horrific. The stuff of nightmares. A sight that would have drove her to tears, to madness, had she not been steeled herself already. Voldemort was chalk white, with a pair of glaring red eyes protruding out. He had no nose, only slits. Like a snake.

"Harry Potter …" the bloodless, wizened mouth croaked out. They stared back at it with fear and revulsion.

"See what I have become?" the face said. "Mere shadow and vapor ... I have form only when I can share another's body... but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds... Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest... and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now... why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

Harry stumbled backwards. Lia was ashen-faced. She knew that Voldemort must not get his hands on the stone, it would mean death for them all. She tried to stir up her mind, called for her wits, tried to think of anything, anything that could possibly get them out of this alive, but her thoughts were sluggish, hindered by terror and shock and alarm and she found that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't think and she just shook. Shook and trembled like a leaf. An absolute idiot.

"Don't be a fool," Voldemort spat out. "Better save your own life and join me... or you'll meet the same end as your parents... They died begging me for mercy..."

"LIAR!" Harry shouted suddenly. He looked incensed, as if the fear had been swapped out for a sudden bravery. _Gryffindors_.

Quirrell was walking backwards towards Harry, so that the monster's gaze still rested on her brother, still pierced him with its evil stare. Lia wasn't sure if Voldemort had realised that she was standing there watching, for his eyes were yet to meet hers.

"How touching..." it hissed. "I always value bravery... Yes, boy, your parents were brave... I killed your father first; and he put up a courageous fight... but your mother needn't have died... she was trying to protect you... Now give me the Stone, unless you want her to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" He sprang up and was running towards the flame door now. Lia was horrified. He would never be fast enough to get past the combined clutches of Voldemort and Quirrell.

"SEIZE HIM!" Voldemort screamed.

Lia swallowed, she was _so_ going to hate herself later. Well, provided that she survived. She supposed that if she died, she could just scold herself in heaven. Lia mentally shook her head. She'd better be going to heaven, after she saved her brother's arse like this.

"Hey! Voldy!" she called out, just as Quirrell's hand had almost closed upon Harry's wrist. She was desperate now, desperate to stop them from hurting her brother. "Voldie-poo!" It wasn't one of her best or most refined nicknames, but it served its purpose. She had caught the attention of You-Know-Who.

"Shall I kill the girl, master?"

"No … she could prove … useful. Curse her …"

"Crucio!"

Lia ducked out of the way as a jet of fiery red light shot past her. She swallowed.

"Hey Harry?" Lia said, hoping her brother would play along. "I just realised that Voldemort's got no nose. So unfortunate."

Harry looked at her, like he was torn between laughing, hitting her over the head and bursting into tears.

"How does he smell?" he asked after a pause.

"Ghastly," said Lia. She dodged out of the way as another curse flew above her head. Well. She definitely had their attention now.

"SEIZE HER!"

Lia screamed as a hand wrapped tightly on her arm. It just so happened that Quirrell had grabbed her upper right arm, just where her scar was. It blazed up instantly, a dazzling red flame leapt out of the cut, flickering up Quirrell's hand. He screamed in pain and managed to shriek out an incantation. The flames died down, but it was too late.

His hand was blackened, mounds of grey ash flaking off it. Lia saw with astonishment that a scarlet 'S' was now imprinted on the burnt palm, it seemed to be glowing and radiating out a warm light.

"Crucio!"

It hit her. Straight on the chest. She fell to the ground as a pain unlike anything she had ever experienced before shuddered through her body. She screamed. It was excruciating, as if she was being stabbed again and again by scorching knives, as if her skin was alight and burning, as if her soul was being torn apart and mangled and shredded.

Then the pain stopped. Screams still filled the air. But they were not her own cries any more.

Harry had grabbed onto Quirrell, and was pinning him to the ground. The two seemed to be struggling, fighting against one another. Lia breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was Quirrell, not Harry, who was shrieking. Harry's hands were on Quirrell's face, and where ever the bare skin made contact with the man, it burned away, disintegrating.

"KILL HIM!" Voldemort yelled.

"NO!" Lia yelled, just as Quirrell was tearing out his wand again.

Quirrell turned so that Voldemort's face was now facing her. Finally, there were eye to eye, face to face. The dark wizard's eyes widened. The movement was so small, just a faint flicker, that it was almost imperceptible, but Lia caught it, and frowned. What had shocked him? What on her face had shocked even Voldemort himself? Now that their gazes were locked, he seemed incapable of tearing his stare away.

Lia took the opportunity as she got it and while Voldemort was somewhat distracted, lunged forward and pressed her own palms against Quirrell's back. Summoning everything she had in her, she pushed and conjured up an image of blistering flames, fire so hot that it could only have come from the pits of hell itself.

Quirrell lit up. Lit up like a struck match, burning ferociously, whilst Voldemort's cries of "KILL HIM" still resounded through the room. But Quirrell did not seem to hear, and his screaming soon drowned out even Voldemort's yells. It was one of the worst sounds Lia had heard, so full of pain that she wondered how a man could endure such agony and still be alive. It made the cruciatus curse minutes before look like a friendly tickle.

Lia did not feel the least bit guilty for inflicting such destruction. He deserved it.

Her professor was entirely black now, appearing like a statue carved out of coal, powder billowing steadily away from his frame. At the last second, before Quirrell crumbled to dust, he spun around, so Voldemort's face was staring at her again. Except now, it was nothing more than obscure indentations rising out of a charred surface.

"Alyssia …" it whispered. "I will … find you."

It was a promise and it was the last thing Lia heard, before she fell down into an ominous abyss.


	11. The Aftermath (Year 1)

When Lia regained consciousness again, she felt like a princess sleeping in her royal palace. Her pillow was plush and fluffy, and under the silky soft duvet, she was sheltered, snug and safe. She wanted to curl up and lie there forever, for she felt sore all over, and her scar ached. Her scar. Lia's mind whirled as she recounted what had happened.

She shot up like a jet.

"Harry! Harry, are you alright?"

A hand was pressed against her chest, preventing her from rising. A sick feeling soared in her stomach. Where was she? What was happening? Had Voldemort managed to abduct her? Where was her brother?

She began to thrash against her kidnapper's grip and hollered, "HARRY!"

"Lia, Lia, my dear girl, please, calm down, breathe now. Or else, I'm afraid that Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out," Dumbledore's voice was soothing and she found herself relaxing.

"Oh," she said, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Professor Dumbledore, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was you." She paused. "Harry … is he?"

"He's awake, and should be with Hermione and Ron right now. All of them were very worried about you. Especially Harry, he was anxious when he woke up yesterday and you were still unconscious."

She sank back down into the pillows. "So they're okay? Good." She closed her eyes. "How long have I been out for, sir?"

"Four days, I believe."

"The stone." Lia's eyes widened and she sat back up. "Professor, it was Quirrell. It was Quirrell all along. That two-faced dirtbag! And the stone, it was in Harry's pocket! I … and my wand! Quirrell had my wand."

"It's quite alright. By the time, I arrived, I found that you had already burnt Quirrell until he was quite nearly ashes. It only took a simple spell for me to finish him off. The stone, has now been destroyed. I found your own wand nearby, deposited in some ashes." He pulled it out of his pocket and placed it into Lia's eagerly awaiting hands. She felt much poised and sure, now that she wasn't defenceless anymore.

"Sir," Lia asked, remembering what she had seen in the mirror. "In the mirror. The Mirror of Erised. I saw something."

Dumbledore nodded. "I believe that you saw your parents?"

Lia nodded. "It's true then? I'm really not a Potter, am I? But how? I don't understand. Why the lies? How could it be possible? Even my aunt, my uncle - no, _Harry's_ aunt and uncle - must have lied to me."

Dumbledore sighed.

"Please, sir. He … he … Voldemort, he called me … Alyssia. Is that my real name?"

"No, no dear child." She relaxed, she much preferred 'Lia'. "Daliah is very much still what you were given by your parents. Alyssia. Alyssia was your mother's name."

"My mother's?" asked Lia, her mouth agape. She tested out the word, "Alyssia."

"Alyssia Agorios, she was called. She was a brave woman." He watched as Lia's brow furrowed. "In the final battle, before James and Lily Potter were murdered and Voldemort's reign was temporarily ended, she rebelled against him. Her aid made much difference to the wizarding community. She saved many lives."

Lia listened intently, hanging onto every word. "Why did you lie to me though? Why wasn't I told the truth when I got here? No, at that, why didn't Vernon and Petunia tell me anything? Do they still believe I'm actually the daughter of Lily Evans?"

"No, Daliah. Your aunt and uncle knew who your real parents were."

"Why take me in then?"

"It was difficult. At first. But I have found that I can be very persuasive. Mr and Mrs Dursley know how important you are, Daliah. They knew the consequences of what could have happened, had you not been taken in with Harry."

"Me?" Lia scoffed. "Important?"

"Your father was a dark wizard. He was … a dangerous man."

Lia's face paled in understanding. "So that's why you didn't tell me? You must not have wanted to freak me out too much until I was ready … I could have taken it though … I'm taking it okay now aren't I?"

She wasn't really. She heart was in knots and she thought her intestines were chewing at her stomach.

"But sir? If my mother was as great a woman as you say? How could she have fallen in love with him?" Her brain felt as if it were bursting, as if the reality of her world was crashing down. "How could I have been born?"

"He was not always like that, Lia. Once he was young, only a few years older than you. And I truly believe that he loved your mother then. But you must understand that people are not rocks, we are not set in stone. Men can change, hearts can wane and ebb, and those who are lost can often find it easy to give in to their deepest darkest desires. I do not believe that anyone is ever born evil. But evil is infectious, and sometimes it is easier to seek refuge in the darkness, than to bear the light."

"My father. What was his name?"

"I do not think you truly want the answer to that question, Lia. Not today at least. It is an answer that we must save for another day … I know you hate to hear this … but when you are ready, you will now."

"When I'm ready? … I … I'm ready now." At Dumbledore's gaze, Lia's face fell.

"Okay," she said. "Maybe I'm not ready. Maybe I'm scared. Maybe I'm weak. But you'll tell me won't you, tell me someday?"

Dumbledore nodded. Lia knew that was the most she would be able to get out of him regarding that subject.

However, she was still not entirely mollified.

"Professor, do you know the room with the twin fires? After Harry left, well, there wasn't enough potion in the bottle. But I knew I had to go though the black flame. It was imperative. I tried the Gemino Curse at first," said Lia. "It worked … sort of at least. The bottle filled up with liquid, but I knew it wasn't right. It wasn't the same as the potion Harry took. It was lighter, more viscous." She snorted. "But Harry's my ... he's my ... okay maybe we're not related by blood ... but he's my _brother_ , and I guess I must be just as foolish as him. I look the potion. It tasted funny and I certainly didn't feel icy."

"That would be because the concoction was pumpkin juice mixed in with lemonade, if my memory is correct. A bit of a funny trick, Severus can be such a comic man."

"It didn't burn me though. I mean, I knew I would be fine, walking through the fires. Gut instinct, I guess? It was so silly of me, now that I think of it. I could have died. I should have died. I should have suffered Quirrell's fate."

Dumbledore paused, as if considering her words. "Lia, you are the product of a powerful witch and a powerful wizard. I suspect that you have a particular affinity for fire, inherited from your mother. It is why you could almost finish Quirrell. And why you could walk through those flames unscathed."

"So I'm impervious to fire?"

"Perhaps. But I believe that it may be a skill that only shows itself in certain predicaments." He winked at her. "I would not go testing it if I were you."

"Then it's because of my mother, my genetics, that I was able to burn Quirrell? But what about when he touched my scar? He just lit up. I know I wasn't planning for it to happen. The thought never crossed my mind and I've never been able to do anything like it before. And what about Harry? Quirrell couldn't touch him either."

"Your mother and Lily Evans died to save you and Harry. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. The scar on your arm was first given to you as residue from a dark curse, a spell inflicted on you by Voldemort himself. He was after your mother and he thirsted for your power. When your mother would not give you up to him as a weapon, he drove his own dark magic into your soul.

"Alyssia died to save you from it, to allow you to maintain your innocence and purity. That sort of love, love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. It drove out Voldemort's evil. Inside of you, lies a protection formed by the purest magic. Love. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

"It was my mother's love that saved me? Harry and I then … we're bound to Voldemort now aren't we? It's why our scars hurt so much this year. Because he was rising up and gaining power with Quirrell's help."

"Yes. It is of my understanding that on the night your mothers sacrificed themselves, you both attained a part of his power. You are indeed connected."

Lia looked troubled. "I don't think I understand, professor. Something just doesn't sound right. I feel like I'm missing something. Something important."

He looked grieved at that, his expression almost mimicking her own. "You will know in time, Lia." Then he reached his hand out to the table.

A glimmering necklace lay there, and he placed it lightly into Lia's open palms. She turned it over, examining it with a meticulous eye. The chain was fine and fashioned out of shining gold, it was long enough to rest on the skin just above her mid-sternum. What appeared to be an oval shaped jewel hung down off it, the outside adorned with a glistening yellowish-brown jewel. Lia peered closely at it.

"The gem is citrine," Dumbledore told her. "Hundreds of years ago, it was considered by the ancients to be able to protect the wearer from snake venom and evil thoughts. Now it is a symbol of success and prosperity. Some believe it to have healing properties."

"It's a beautiful necklace. No … not a necklace, a pendant. It's a locket isn't it? I can tell there's something inside. But sir," she'd already started trying to pry it apart with her nails, to no avail. "How do I open it?"

"The locket will open for you when you are ready."

Lia stared at him. She was a bit sick of hearing 'when you are ready'. Who knew how long that would take? Merlin, what if Dumbledore died before he could tell her what everything meant?

As if hearing her thoughts, the headmaster smiled, "Do not distress, Lia. I promise you that you will see what lies inside. The locket is enchanted to open when the time is right. It belonged to your mother. The necklace, I mean."

With those words, Lia froze. Now when she looked at the necklace she held in her hands, it suddenly became the most precious thing she had ever owned. The only object she had that had was her mother's. Gently pushing her hair away, she clasped it around her neck. As soon as it made contact with the bare skin there, she felt a comforting warmth, that filled her from head to toe. It was really as if her mother's love still lingered there.

"One more thing," said Dumbledore. "Agorios was your mother's surname. Potter, your brother's. It is up to you which one you take on now."

"I …" said Lia. "Agorios. Probably Agorios. I think my mother deserves to be remembered. She should have her legacy passed down. But, I think I'll talk to Harry first though. Can I leave now?"

"I suggest you speak to Madam Pomfrey." He checked the clock. "It is almost time for the end of year feast."

It had taken Lia about ten minutes of negotiating and pleading with Madam Pomfrey, before she realised that she was not getting anywhere. She had run around the room five times to show the healer that she was perfectly fine and bursting with energy, and pretended to cry at the thought of missing the end of year feast. It had not yet worked.

Eventually, Lia had just grabbed her wand, used an invisibility charm on herself, and snuck out. She was starving, and she was not going to miss what would probably be her last feast at Hogwarts until Second Year. But with the time it had taken her to wake up, talk to Dumbledore, brush her hair, try pointlessly to convince Madam Pomfrey, and sneak out - she was inevitably late to dinner.

As she walked in, the happily chattering voices died down into an eerie hush. It appeared that she was the last one to enter, and as she walked over to the Slytherin table, she saw that almost everyone had swung their heads around to gaze at her. Whispers were starting up. She glanced at the Gryffindor table. Harry gave her an almost apologetic look.

"Daliah Agorios," she heard a Hufflepuff whisper to her friend. "I always knew she wasn't a Potter. Doesn't look like Harry at all."

So everyone knew then. She sighed. Of course. She could bet her life that Dumbledore had told Harry, Harry had accidentally told some gossipy Gryffindor, and now the whole school knew that her parents weren't actually James and Lily Potter. Harry was lucky that she had decided to take on her mother's maiden name, or he would've been in deep trouble.

"She's a Slytherin," another voice murmured. "Why would she ever risk her life like that? It's unheard of."

She slid down into her seat at the table. Tracey looked like she would burst from holding in all the questions she was probably waiting to bombard Lia with. Fortunately, Dumbledore had arrived and the other girl was forced to wait until afterwards to interrogate Lia .

"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts...

"Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has three hundred and eighty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and twenty- two."

Lia clapped her hands and cheered together with the rest of her house. Yes! Her first year at Hogwarts, and they were going to win the cup. She was so going to show off about it to Harry all summer long. He looked quite dejected, sitting there sadly, a couple tables down in Gryffindor. The green and silver decorations around the great wall were definitely a nice touch. She was thrilled, although Lia had been told that Slytherin had previously won the house cup every year for a long time.

Malfoy was banging his goblet against the table, which made him look even more daft than usual. She thought that he resembled a toddler throwing a tantrum. But, one out of happiness.

"Yes, Yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

Lia's smile faded. Uh oh. She could tell from the way Dumbledore kept smiling at the Gryffindor table, that something bad was coming.

"Ahem," said the headmaster. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes..." He gave fifty points to Ron, fifty to Hermione, sixty to her brother and ten to Neville.

"That's bullshit," Malfoy whispered. "He can't do that!" For once, Lia agreed with him.

"We're going to lose!" Nott said, looking dismayed. "To Gryffindor, at that! By sixty points. It's an embarrassment."

"It's not over yet," said Tracey, pointing at Lia. "You're all forgetting that we have our own little house celebrity."

Just as she finished saying that, the voices died down again, as Dumbledore raised up his hand, calling for silence.

"And finally, to Miss Daliah Agorius, for wit, talent and valour, I award Slytherin sixty house points."

Lia's eyes were wide. Sixty. So that meant that … oh … she didn't know whether to be pleased or frustrated. The hall was silent for a minute. It was as if the Gryffindors - who must have thought they'd won the house cup through some sudden stroke of chance - didn't know if they should cheer to be polite, or look disappointed. Her fellow Slytherins - who had been preparing themselves for second place - weren't sure either. They didn't know if it would be degrading for them to clap now. After all, they hadn't exactly won.

Slytherin had exactly tied with Gryffindor.

Four hundred and eighty-two points, to four hundred and eighty-two points. If felt like some sick joke. She bet that Dumbledore had planned out exactly how many points to give each one of them, so that the two houses would be equal.

Before she could blink again, the green draperies in the room changed, so that the lower half was now gold. The Slytherin serpent shrunk in size, to allow a Gryffindor lion to fit on the other side of it. A slow applause began in the hall, and exploded into a grudging clapping from all four houses. The Slytherins and Gryffindors all looked rather put off though. Snape and McGonagall were shaking hands, neither of them looking particularly pleased.

Theodore Nott walked over the Lia. He was the first to clap her on the back. "At least we haven't lost to the Gryffindors, thanks to you, right?" he murmured, looking a bit timid and self-conscious.

Lia grinned at him. "Honestly, we deserved that cup. Sixty points to Harry and me? And fifty to Ron and Hermione? I mean what is the message of this? Go out and risk your lives, children. It's okay. You can take over for the adults. If you die, at least you'll win your house some points! He's just about promoting youth suicide. And stupidity too."

Tracey laughed and hugged her. "Lia Agorios now, huh? I think Potter sounded better, to be honest, but it does suit you. And I know you want to find Harry. So don't forgot, I'm waiting for a long dashing description of everything that happened, when you come to the dorm tonight."

Harry spotted Lia walking toward the Gryffindor table and ran over to her. "Lia! I was wondering when you'd stop snoring … you looked so cute with drool dribbling out your mouth."

"Remember when I asked for your opinion? No? Me neither."

He smiled. "I just wanted to tell you, that even if you're not a Potter anymore, I still consider you to be my annoying younger sister."

"Younger sister?" Lia raised an eyebrow.

"Probably younger. That reminds me! You'll have to ask Dumbledore for your real birthday."

"Yeah, I guess ... I find that it's a bit of a relief knowing that we don't share DNA. I always wondered how I could be related to a moron."

"Lia," Harry's eyes were searching. "Honestly though. Are you all right? This would be a big shock. I'm sure no one wanted to lie to you, least of all Dumbledore."

"I'm fine … is it weird that I don't find it that surprising? I'm shocked sure, but I think I always knew inside that I wasn't James and Lily's daughter. Everything sort of makes more sense now doesn't it? Ha. I just realised." Lia laughed. "I'm not related to the Dursleys anymore!" She whooped in delight.

It wasn't long after that night before they were back on the Hogwarts Express, pulling into King's Cross Station again. Lia groaned at the thought of seeing Petunia and Vernon again.

"You must be Harry and Lia's family!" Mrs. Weasley said.

"In a manner of speaking," said Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up boy, move girl, we haven't got all day." He walked away without them, while they struggled to pull their heavy suitcases off the train.

"Yuck," said Lia. "Is that really his face? Or did his neck just throw up?" She looked around the platform. "One second. I've got to say bye to Tracey, or she'll murder me."

When she walked back, Hermione asked her, "Is your uncle always like that?"

Lia nodded. "This is him being polite. He doesn't want to look bad when he's around all these people."

"Hope you have … er … a good holiday," she was still staring uncertainly after Vernon.

"Oh we will," an evil grin was on Harry's face.

"The Dursleys don't know we can't use magic at home ... Dudley's in for a bit of a treat this summer," Lia smirked.

It was a good life.


	12. Escape From Pivet Drive (Year 2)

Lia was absolutely miserable.

Cooped up in Harry's room, she thought that if she didn't find some miraculous way to escape through, she really, _really_ was going to go insane.

Her brother's quarters were tiny, now that two people were living inside it. When she'd tried complaining to the Dursley's that there was no way she and Harry could both fit on the cramped single bed in the corner, Vernon had attempted to heave in a set of blankets.

Unsurprisingly, it had not fit into the tiny cat-flap he'd had installed – the flap was how she and Harry got their food now – and he had been forced to open the door momentarily and throw the linen and a pillow at Lia's face.

"You can sleep on the floor," he'd said.

She wondered how she could ever have thought that the Dursleys weren't too bad. As soon as they'd got back to the house, she'd confronted Harry's aunt and uncle about they could have 'forgotten' to a) inform her that she wasn't actually a Potter, and b) actually tell her something about who her true parents were.

"So you know now," Petunia had said in her haughty voice. "Good. It was tedious pretending that someone like you, could ever be a blood relative of mine." She'd then launched into a lengthy, heated tirade of abuse towards her and her parents. Lia had zoned out to avoid smashing her fist into Petunia's face, and she'd only caught small snippets.

"Foul, corrupt people they were ... don't know why we ever agreed to take you in ... dangerous ... bad influence on my duddlykins ... evil just like them ... horrible girl."

Presently, Vernon and Petunia were in an atrocious mood, they were always in bad moods, but this time it was even worse than normal. It had started ever since Dobby had gone ahead and dropped that cake on Mrs. Mason's head.

Since both Harry and Lia had denied having anything to do with it, Vernon had decided to just punish the two of them. The only thing Lia had been looking forward to was going back to Hogwarts after the break - now it looked like she would be confined here forever. Looking forward to that, and teasing Dudley. She still remembered the incident that had occurred on that beautiful June day.

She had stood outside Dudley's room. He'd left the door to his bedroom open again.

"What are you doing, Lia?" Dudley had questioned her. "Go away! I'm calling mum."

"Shhh. You'll break my concentration."

"Concentration? Concentration for what?" her cousin looked scared then. "You're not doing magic are you? That's not allowed! I'm telling mum! She'll lock you up again."

"Dudley!" she snapped. "This is urgent. We have no time to discuss mundane matters like that."

"What? What is it? What's urgent?"

"I don't mean to alarm you … but there's a Crup in your room."

"A cup?"

"No, you fool. A Crup."

"What's a crup? You're sprouting your magical nonsense again! I don't see anything."

"Well obviously you don't. They're only visible to those with the magical sight. Didn't you know? Crup's are giant foul dog-wolves, the size of lions. They have the sharpest fangs, and a sizable appetite. Ahh!" she screamed. "Dudley! Dudley, it's eating your … what is that … oh no! It looks like it's going to eat your brand new playstation!" She gasped. "It's a monster. It's horrible." Her face went pale.

"What? No! No! My games! NO! I haven't even had the chance to play them yet!" Dudley looked grief-stricken. "Lia! Do something!"

"I can't use magic remember? You said so yourself. And I'm not looking forward to being stuck in my room all summer!"

"I don't care!" he swore. "Not my games!"

"Don't worry Dudley," she said in a comforting voice. "It'll leave once it's full. It'll probably only want to devour a few more stuff. Maybe your T.V.? Or your bed. Maybe some of your clothes? And then it'll leave. It should be fine."

"Fine? Fine? It's not fine! How will I watch SpongeBob then? Where will I sleep? What'll I wear? Lia, help me!" He paused, looking torn. "Okay, okay I won't tell mother, alright? Just stop the beast."

"Do I have your word? Promises are important things in the wizarding world. If you break this one, all of the hair will fall out off your head, and you'll have no eyebrows for the rest of your life."

"I promise not to say anything, alright? I promise!"

She waited a moment for dramatic effect. "Very well. Just because I'm a good cousin, and I know how upset you'd be if it ate everything of yours. Now, Dudley. I'm going to need your help with this. Here's what you need to do. Are you listening?"

He nodded fervently.

"Grab your secret food stash out from under your bed. Slowly."

"How'd you know it was under my bed?"

"Do you doubt my magic abilities? Fine then, if you don't think I'm a capable witch ... I guess I'll just leave. Maybe you can ask Harry. He's not as kind as me though, and he's in a bad mood, I think you might have to beg."

Dudley looked horrified at the idea of even asking Harry for anything. "Alright! Alright! I'm getting the food." He bent to his knees and pulled it out.

Lia's mouth watered at the sight. Lollies. Chocolate. Chips. Jelly beans. She'd missed eating those.

Dudley looked at her hungry face. His eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. "What good's junk food going to do?"

Lia looked at him emotionlessly, as if he'd just asked her what one plus one equalled. "Have you been listening to anything I've said? Okay, Dudley. I'll dumb it down for you. Monster," she pointed at one corner of the room. "Monster hungry. Monster wants to eat PlayStation. But," she said, now directing her finger at the food now piled on the floor, "Monster eat this food instead."

"So," Dudley said, his face scrunched up again. "Instead of eating my PlayStation and bed and stuff, it'll just take these sweets instead?"

"Precisely. But we can do better. I'm going to trap it. What to do? What to do? I know! Dudley grab that bag there for me. And put all the food in it."

"Okay, … done."

"Now pass it over. Good. I'm going to do a spell now. It's a complicated one alright? It might drain your energy a little, but it's for the best right? Your belongings are important."

Dudley nodded and glanced around anxiously.

Lia cleared her throat and raised her hands up towards her chest, the palms pointing outwards.

"Jumbo Mumbo Corno Crumbo!" she chanted in a loud voice. "Crooky Mooky Dotty Hop! Soopa tuba lomba ... libbily dow!" Her eyes snapped open. "Dudley!" she screamed, "Dudley! Watch out, the Crup's coming at you!"

"What! ME! Why?"

"It probably thinks that you're food! Oh! Its mouth is opening over your head!" She ran over and shoved her cousin to the floor.

She pulled at the top of the bag, so that the sides split apart and she cried for good effect, "Away foul beast!" She then slammed the bag shut, and tied a knot around it.

"What happened?"

"I've trapped it for now. It's in this bag at the moment."

"That bag? It's so small though."

"The Crup shrinks itself to fit its enclosure. They're good hiders. If they were all enormous, wizards would have captured them long ago, you know? Ow" she winced.

"What's wrong?"

Lia looked down at her arm. "It's bitten me! The venom is poisonous! I only have minutes before my heart will stop beating."

"What! Lia!"

"But alas. I have the antidote."

"Oh … thank goodness!"

"I must leave you for now, my dear cousin, and attend to my wounds."

The food had lasted her and Harry about a whole month before they came to the last chocolate bar. It had been delicious, and worth every lie she'd said to Dudley. Even better, though, true to his word, Dudley hadn't breathed a word about the incident to his mother or father. Whenever he looked at her now, there was a sort of respect in his eyes. Lia had 'saved' his life after all.

She was really wishing for one of those bags of chips now. "Harry. I'm hungry," she whined.

Harry ignored her. Trapped in this locked room for three days already, the two were really getting on each other's nerves.

"Urghhh," she flopped onto her makeshift bed, groaning into her pillow.

"Let's just go to sleep," said Harry.

It was only a while after Lia had fallen into a dream – she'd been at an all you can eat buffet, a magical one, where every time she thought of a food she'd like to try, it had appeared in a tray on her table – when she was awoken again by a tapping sound at the window.

She saw that Harry was up too.

She walked over to the window, and peered through, stumbling back. Ron Weaseley's face and vivid red hair looked back at her.

"Ron," Harry whispered, pushing the glass open. "How did you…?"

"What even…" murmured Lia. She'd caught sight of the explanation for how Ron was hovering many feet up in the sky, staring at them. He was sitting, leaning his head out of a shabby looking turquoise car. "A flying car? Impressive."

"We thought you'd like it," Ron's older twin brothers – Fred and George – said in unison.

"All right, Harry? Lia?" asked George.

"What's happened?" Ron said. "Why haven't you both been answering my letters-"

"Dobby," said Lia, as if that would explain everything to the Weasleys.

Ron continued. "I've asked you two to stay about a dozen times in those letters. Then Dad comes home and tells me that you both got some official warning for using magic in front of Muggles –"

"It wasn't us," said Harry, just as Lia replied with "Dobby" again.

"How did he know?"

"Dad works for the ministry," said Ron. "Harry, Lia, I thought you guys knew that you're not allowed to do spells outside of school."

Lia snorted. "Like you can talk." She gestured at the hovering car.

"What this? This doesn't count. It's Dad's and it wasn't us that enchanted it. But you two! Don't you know better than to do magic, especially in front of those muggles you live with?"

"Ron, you're a person of rare intelligence ... It's rare when you show any."

He glared at Lia, and then sighed. "I've missed you. Both of you."

"This is touching and all. But what are we going to do now?" asked Harry. "Can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked Lia and I up and won't let us come back, and obviously we can't magic ourselves out, because the Ministry'll think that's the second spell we've done in three days, so -"

"Don't blabber," said Ron. "I barely heard any of that. Besides, we've come to take you all home with us."

"How? You're underage too. You can't use magic to get us out either."

"We don't need magic. Tie this around the bars will you?"

Lia watched grinning, as Fred revved up the car and drove upwards, pulling out the iron bars that had trapped her. Freedom felt good.

She was just about to climb into the car, when a thought stuck her. "What about my Hogwarts stuff?"

"My wand … my broomstick …" said Harry.

"Where did you put it?"

"I need to get to the cupboard under the stairs, and Lia needs the laundry room, but we can't get out of here. The door's locked."

"No problem," George said, he was getting out of the front passenger seat now. "Out of the way, Harry. Step aside for the masters, Lia." He took a simple hairpin out of his pockets and began picking the lock. She heard a click and the door swung open.

"Not many wizards think this kind of Muggle thing is very useful," said Fred, "but for us, they're skills worth learning, even if it does take a while to work."

"Teach me that sometime, won't you?" said Lia, feeling inspired. "Heaven knows I'll need it."

Once all their belongings had been packed up, they went to help the twins carry their trunks up the stairs. Harry, Fred and George panted as they heaved up Harry's heavy trunk.

Fred looked at Lia, who was agilely springing up the stairs, trunk in one hand, her owl Tyto's cage in the other. "How are you-?"

"Feather-light charm," she said. "I did it at Hogwarts, so I'm lucky that it's lasted until now."

They were eventually able to load up Harry's trunk, whilst Lia gently placed her own baggage delicately on top of it.

"Okay, let's go," whispered George.

Lia thought that they were finally having a scrap of good luck, that they'd be able to get away without a struggle, when Vernon yelled, "THAT RUDDY OWL!"

She groaned internally, she had already placed Tyto in the car, but it seemed that Harry had forgotten his own one.

Her suspicions were confirmed mere seconds later when he called out, "I've forgotten Hedwig!"

"Imbecile," said Lia.

She watched her brother leap out from his seat on the car, whizz back across the room, just as the landing light switched on. He quickly grabbed Hedwig's cage, ran back to window, passing it to Lia, who placed the bird on her lap. Harry scrambled back onto the drawers, so that he could pull himself into the car, when Vernon knocked on the door. Since they hadn't relocked the door, it swung open with a bang.

Her uncle stood there in the doorway, for a moment he looked at them with bemusement, before his brow furrowed and he charged at Harry like an angry tornado, seizing him by the ankle. Lia and the Weasleys all grabbed onto Harry's outstretched arms and pulled him up as best they could.

"Petunia!" Vernon roared. His face was puffed up in a disagreeable shade of red. "They're getting away!"

The four of them gave another hard tug on Harry's arms. Their combined effort finally worked, and Harry was hauled out of the window, now hanging in mid-air. Unfortunately, Lia saw that they couldn't pull him in yet. Vernon was still hanging onto her brother's ankle, hollering.

"Get off me!" Harry yelled, trying to shake him off, but his uncle's grip was iron-tight.

Lia grumbled. Vernon was _so_ going to make her pay for this next time he saw her ... but some things just had to be done. She opened the car door a smidge, stuck out her left leg and with a well-aimed kick down, knocked the livid man hard against his balding head.

She watched as he shrieked, momentarily loosening his grip enough that Harry was able to wriggle out of his grasp. He immediately fell down towards the garden. Lia knew that there was a bunch of shrubbery beneath him that Petunia had planted, so he'd be fine. She wasn't worried - the plants would break his fall.

"VERNON!" her aunt screeched like a harpy. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

He was getting up now, raising angry fists up at them. She thought that he was yelling something, his lips moved frantically, but the wind blew away the sound. Petunia and Dudley were standing beside the window, staring, stunned, as the car rose up into the sky.

"See you next summer!" Harry and Lia yelled together.


	13. Bratfoy and Daddy (Year 2)

"Hurry up!" Harry called. Seeing that his sister was still apparently lost in thought, and did not seem to have heard him, Harry walked back towards her and grabbed her wrist, tugging her forward, along the paved street in Diagon Alley.

Lia couldn't help frowning as she walked with them towards Flourish and Blotts. She was still remembering the scene she had seen in Borgin and Bourkes.

She hadn't meant to end up there of course. She'd gone into the fire with Harry, gripping onto his arm, so that they'd be transported together. She _knew_ that she should've been the one to take the Floo powder. Her fool of a brother had gone ahead and said something vaguely like 'Diagonally', instead of "Diagon Alley." Really, Diagon Alley wasn't even hard to pronounce!

She'd seen Malfoy there in the shop too. She didn't know why she was also running into Mopefoy. It was getting annoying. But there at that shop, seeing the way his father talked to him, she'd sort of understood why the boy was the way he was. She'd felt a bit bad for him, if she was honest.

As she expected, Malfoy hadn't been able to restrain himself from complaining about her brother at first.

"What's the good of that if I'm not on the House team?" he'd said, when his father offered to buy him a racing broom. What an ungrateful prat. "Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He's not even that good, it's just because he's famous ... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead ..."

He'd bent down to look at a shelf that was full of skulls. They looked human, which disgusted Lia.

". . . everyone thinks he's so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick -"

"You have told me this at least a dozen times already," Draco's father had said. The look he shot Mopefoy, then, was controlling, a look that said 'stop' wordlessly. Lia thought he appeared rather like a dictator, seemingly having no qualms at her with dominating over people and governing them through any means necessary. "And I would remind you that it is not - prudent - to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear - ah, Mr. Borgin."

Later on, Draco had pointed his hand at a withered hand lying on a cushion. Lia, who had previously already been revolted, almost gagged.

"Ah, the Hand of Glory!" said Mr. Borgin, who had then quickly hurried over to Draco. "Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir."

Lia thought Borgin was really selling it thick. 'Fine taste'? More like no taste.

"I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin," Mr. Malfoy had said in a cold voice. Lia wondered if he ever showed affection.

Mr. Borgin, quick to placate, had said quickly, "No offense, sir, no offense meant -"

"Though if his grades don't pick up…" said Mr. Malfoy, his voice had grown even colder, if that was even possible. Lia had felt entertained then. So Mopefoy hadn't down that well on his exams? Ha! Served him right. She'd never seen him do homework once. She was pretty sure he bullied the Hufflepuffs into writing the essays for him.

"…that may indeed be all he is fit for -"

Lia's pleased feeling had died down. It was a bit of a rude thing to say about your own child. She mused on a though then – if Mr. Malfoy was this derogatory to his own son, what would he be like to others?"

"It's not my fault," Draco had countered quickly. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger -"

"I would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam," snapped Mr. Malfoy.

Lia had felt like giggling then, but then she'd seen the angry, slightly downcast expression on Mopefoy's face. He really looked like he was moping then. She grasped then, that Draco must really value his father's opinions. She'd thought Malfoy was incapable of love, but perhaps, he did love his father?

She realised that Draco was a bit like Dudley. She'd once thought that Dudley was the product of his parents spoiling and pampering him. If that was true, then Draco was the product of his parents brainwashing and indoctrinating him. It was evident that his father was a pureblood supremacist, and had passed on his views to his son. She remembered once how Dumbledore had told her that no one was ever born evil. Perhaps it was true for Malfoy too?

"And that Lia girl," continued Malfoy's father. Lia's ears had pricked up at the mention of her name. "What was she called? Daliah Agrus or something. I've heard rumors from other Slytherin parents. Did you know that she can do wandless magic already? And you?" His gaze was accusatory. "Sometimes I wonder if you are my son."

"Father," Draco said, looking shamefaced, "Give me time. I've been studying this summer. I probably know more hexes than that girl now."

"I should hope so. But then again. I suppose she is not a halfblood like I originally thought. I heard someone say that her father was a pureblood, a …" He paused, "follower, like us. Perhaps, she may be worthier than we'd thought."

"Lia! Can you please watch where you're going!" Harry's voice brought her back to the present. She had almost walked into a street lamp

Realising that now wasn't the time for analysing, Lia shook away her own thoughts and confusion over Malfoy. All she'd managed to decipher was that perhaps Malfoy wasn't as inherently evil as she'd thought. Perhaps … perhaps he could be salvaged? But, then again, he was an extremely bigoted, spiteful git. He was bullied a bit by his father. Big deal. She was bullied by the Dursleys and she turned out fine. Lia thought that she must be getting too soft.

She saw that now there was a large crowd gathered in front of the bookstore. People were actually pushing and shoving in their haste to get in. It was strange considering how the shop had been relatively empty when she and Harry had visited the previous year. There was a larger banner spread out across the upper windows, 'Gilderoy Lockhart will be signing copies of his autobiography Magical Me today from 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.'

That would explain it. Lia knew from checking the booklist that he was probably a celebrated author. She hoped that he was a good one, she wasn't interested in studying a moron's book, not after the disaster with Quirrell last year. She needed a good Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. And didn't Dumbledore say that there was a chance Voldemort could rise up again? She would surely need to learn spells in case that happened.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

Lia saw with apprehension that much of the crowd gathered up at the front of the store, were mainly witches that were about as old as Ron's mother. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign, but she squeezed in with her friends.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. The woman sounded breathless and she kept patting her hair. Lia had an inkling that Lockhart would be some foolish, moderately attractive, very flirty wizard. Not good. "We'll be able to see him in a minute ..."

Gilderoy Lockhart came into her line of sight – he had very wavy blonde hair, that he kept flicking over his face, and straight, shiny white teeth. His gaze flickered around at the adoring crowd, and rested on Ron, before widening as he saw Harry.

He leapt to his feet, and said in a voice so loud, it was almost a shout, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

Gasps and whispers rang out through the shop. Harry looked a little dumbstruck at the attention and froze, allowing Lockhart to grab him and pull her brother up to the front of the shop. There was a burst of applause. Harry's face was turning red now.

"Nice big smile, Harry," said Lockhart, who was giving the camera a big, toothy beam. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said loudly, waving around to signal for the crowd to quiet down. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography -which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-"

The crowd applauded again. Lia didn't really know why. It wasn't as if they were getting free books themselves.

"He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake. Lia snorted when she saw that Harry's glasses were basically slipping down his nose and his hand looked white from how hard Lockhart was gripping on to it. "… that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me."

Lia froze. What? He couldn't be implying…

"Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

It took all the restraint she had to force herself not to groan. She thought that she already had a clear picture of what Lockhart was like – a poser, a tease and a narcissist. Worse yet, he looked like he even had Hermione's adoration, and Lia had always thought that her friend had more sense than to root for fake strutting peacocks like Gilderoy.

Harry was then presented with the man's entire works. Lia almost snickered. Never in a million years would Harry rifle through that load of junk. He was wobbling as he walked over to them - the collection must have heavy - and as he reached Ginny, he emptied the books into her new cauldron.

"You have those," Harry muttered. "I can buy my own." Lia smiled at the look of hero-worship on the girl's face as she looked up at Harry, as if he had just given her the sun. So little Ginny had a crush on Harry then?

Her smile stopped when she heard a familiar voice.

"Famous Harry Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

Ginny, who Lia was liking more and more, replied, "Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Lia thought that it must have been one of the first time she had heard her speak. She could tell that Ginny wasn't a shy girl, but just intimidated by her brother's presence.

"Potter, you've got himself a girlfriend!" Malfoy drawled. Ginny's face turned a bright shade of red at that, and Lia thought that it was about time that she stepped in.

"Jealous, Malfoy? It is rather unfortunate that no girl could ever like you. But looks aren't everything. In your case, they aren't anything!"

Just as Malfoy was seething, Ron and Hermione walked over.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron. He looked at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the back of his shoe. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as his sister, and almost started toward Malfoy. Lia grabbed him by the wrist. It wouldn't do to start a fight here. She didn't want them to get a bad reputation. And she didn't want any books to be damaged. Besides, she knew that Mopefoy was just goading them.

"Oh Draco," Lia said. Malfoy looked a bit surprised, Lia never called him by his first name. "You're just _wonderful_." His eyebrows had shot up now, Ron's as well. "You bring everyone a lot of joy … when you leave the room."

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, with the hordes of people standing in the way, he was struggling to reach them. Fred and George were buy his side. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Lia had begun to recognised that cold voice. "Arthur Weasley." Mr. Malfoy was standing there, he had a hand placed on Mopefoy's shoulder. She saw with disdain that they had exactly the same type of sneer.

"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said. Lia had never heard his voice grow so icy before. He gave a brusque nod towards the Malfoys.

"It's been a busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime for it?"

Draco's father reached his hand into Ginny's cauldron and amidst the glossy Lockhart books, he pulled out a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said, eyeing the book with contempt. "Tell me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Lia glared at the ill-mannered man. Blood was rising in Mr. Weasley's face, and he was a deep shade of red, his skin even darker than his hair.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his grey eyes glanced over at Hermione's parents, who were watching nervously. "The company you keep, Weasley ... and I thought your family could sink no lower."

She saw Mr. Weasley preparing to launch himself at the wizard, and Lia's mouth acted against her will then.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Was that comment meant to offend us?" Ron's father stopped in shock, just as Ginny's cauldron went flying. He must have smacked into it.

"... Because I think everyone agrees that the only thing that's offensive right now is your face."

She glared defiantly at Lucius Malfoy. She was pretty sure that she could feel dazed eyes looking at her, but she didn't dare break her stare against Mr. Malfoy.

"Lia. Shut. Up," Draco spat out. His voice was angry, but his eyes still looked astounded. He probably wasn't used to people standing up to his father.

"Make me," she said.

"So, this is Miss Agrus-"

"Agorios actually."

"A brave one, aren't you?" His face turned dangerous, but a hint of recollection shone in his eyes. "I knew your mother. She was a fool. And she paid dearly for it. I hope you'll learn, in time, to respect your superiors. Or you might suffer the same fate as her." It sounded like a threat.

"I hope you will too, Mr. Malfoy. If you're smart, next time you'll hold your tongue when you speak to Mr. Weasley."

"The Weasleys?" His voice was indignant. "Superior … to me? The filthy, poverty-stricken blood-traitors?" He snorted. "I wouldn't be surprised if their next child died of malnutrition, with the way they breed like rats. Pathetic. Don't make me lau-"

He didn't get to finish. Lia had launched herself at him. She pushed him into a bookshelf and as Lucius Malfoy was knocked backwards, about a dozen books plummeted precariously down. Lia threw her fists around, the older Malfoy was grabbing at her arms, but she was fast.

She heard Fred and George yell, "Get him, Lia!". Harry and Hermione were yelling, "No, Lia, don't, no!" The crowd had moved backwards and she thought that some people were taking photos of them.

It wasn't often that you saw a twelve-year old girl wrestling a middle-aged man.

She gasped as Lucius' hand found its way up to her throat. He was squeezing the air out of her. She kicked him roughly, but his grip didn't stop. Panicking, she thought that she might just have to use some underage magic and send a stinging jinx his way. It was fortunate that Hagrid had finally managed to shuffle over. It only took one move of his arms, and she and Mr. Malfoy were shoved apart.

Lia tenderly touched her neck. She could tell that it was going to bruise. But it was worth it. Lucius was wearing a new black eye. He was glaring at her with a fury that spoke of torture and death. She smirked at him. For all his bark, the man's bite wasn't that bad. Fist to fist, he'd been a really average fighter.

Mr. Malfoy all but threw Ginny's tatty Transfiguration book at the youngest Weasley, with eyes radiating malice.

"Here, girl - take your book - it's the best your father can give you -" He pulled himself out of Hagrid's grip and beckoned to Draco, who still looked flabbergasted, and together they swept out of the shop.

"This isn't over," he said to Lia as he left.

Lia stared after him. The realisation of what she had actually done struck her. She was going to be killed by Lucius Malfoy. She just knew it. Through all the adrenaline and rage she'd felt, she hadn't stopped to think. She must be as dumb as her brother.

"Lia!" Harry said, his eyes hysterical. "What was that? The way you flew at Malfoy … Do you have a death wish? My god, I thought I was the reckless one here."

"I hate him," Lia said aloofly. At her brother's look of exasperation, she continued, "Oh, don't look at me like that! I don't know. I just lose my mind every time I'm near the Malfoys, it's like I just get too ... too angry to think. And besides, he deserved it."

"Yes, but hitting him like that? What happened to my sister? You always used your words, not your fists!"

"Shut up, Harry," said Fred. "That was brilliant."

"Funniest thing I've ever seen," said George.

"He had his hand around her neck!" shrieked Hermione. "How is that funny?"

"Lia," Mr. Weasley's voice rang out. "That was very irresponsible."

"You were going to throw yourself at him too," grumbled Lia.

"But, that's different. I'm an adult. You're still a child. Lucius is dangerous. He could have seriously hurt you. And now … he won't forget this."

"Yeh should've ignored him, Lia," said Hagrid. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

"What in Merlin's name happened?" a witch asked her as they were on their way out.

Lia set her face into a pitiful, frightened expression. "He was threatening me, miss." She made her eyes tear up. "I just didn't know what to do." A tear trailed down her cheek now. "I thought he would kill me! Look at my neck! And I'm just a little girl! He didn't have to be so violent."

The woman looked disgusted. "Well … I always thought the Malfoys were a proper bunch. But attacking a twelve-year-old girl? What was he looking to get out of that? Lucius should know better!"

"I thought I saw you launch yourself at him first, though?" A stony faced wizard said.

Lia had to think fast. "You didn't hear the things he was saying," she said. "If I didn't have the element of surprise, my body would probably have been sent to the morgue already."

Lia gave a small smirk as she walked out the door. She had won herself another point against the Malfoys. But little did she know that her war with Lucius Malfoy was just beginning.


	14. Pixies and Kidnappers (Year 2)

Lia stood in the Hogwarts courtyard, her hands on her hips, as she watched a first-year boy, Colin Creevey, fawn over her brother, as if he were some famous movie star. She didn't know whether to be amused or to vomit.

"D'you think – would it be all right if … could I have a picture?" Creevey asked, pulling out a camera, "A signed picture? Just to prove that I've met you."

Lia stared at the boy with a deadpan expression ... Vomit it was then. Creevey was petite, and had large innocent looking eyes, that made him look very young and very naïve. He was obviously relatively new to the wizarding world – a muggle born he'd said – so she could excuse his temporary bad taste. Harry wasn't really worth such ass-kissing.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Malfoy's displeasingly noisy, stinging voice echoed around the courtyard. People were stopping to look at them now.

"Come on, everyone line up!" He continued, his voice booming to the crowd. "Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter, is giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," Harry said, with clenched fists, as Lia said, "Shut up, Malfoy. No one likes you."

He swung his face around to pierce Lia with a sullen leer. He was probably remembering that time during the summer holidays, when she'd given his father a black eye.

"Hello again, Agorios," he said, not looking friendly at all. "I like your hair." Lia looked at him with intense distrust. "How did you get it to come curling out of your nostrils like that?"

"The same way you managed to get that stick up your arse," said Lia.

"You're just jealous!" Colin shrilled. Lia thought it was rather brave of him to stand up for Harry, considering that Crabbe and Goyle looked like they could break him into two pieces, just as easily as you would a twig.

"Jealous?" Malfoy didn't even have to shout anymore to get the students' attention – half the court was already listening intently. "What? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron. It was a bit of a weird insult to think up, but it did manage to stop Crabbe and Goyle from snickering. They were trying to attempt to look menacing now, banging a closed fist into their palm. Crabbe kind of reminded her of that troll she'd stunned in first grade, when they'd saved Hermione in the girl's bathrooms.

"You should watch yourself Weasley," Malfoy jeered. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice, a horrid imitation of Ron's mother. "If you put another toe out of line' - "

Some fifth-year Slytherins had started laughing loudly. Lia sent them a very expressive, dark look, and they shut up.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house -"

Multiple things happened then - Ron whipped out his wand, which looked worryingly volatile as it was still wrapped up with tape; Lia asked with mockery, "And what's your autograph worth Mopefoy? Shit?"; and Hermione closed the book she was reading and said, "Look out!"

Lockhart strode towards them. "What's all ... what's all this?" He saw Harry and swung an arm around his shoulders, like they were old pals already. "Oh! I needn't have asked. So, we meet again, Harry! Come, Mr. Creevey, we'll take a group photo. Two stars in one, can't get much better than that! And we can both sign it for you!"

Lia would have laughed at the humiliation on Harry's face, had she not wanted to give the smirking Malfoy any more satisfaction than he already had. The school bell rung, Lockhart said, "Move along now," and walked off with Harry.

She heard short snippets of their conservation, as she trailed after them. Gryffindor had been paired with Slytherin, so she had Defense Against the Dark Arts too. "Covered up for you … looks a tad bigheaded … setting yourself up too much … too early in your career … maybe someday like me … I just don't think you're quite there yet." Lia thought that Lockhart honestly made it sound like Harry was actually a superstar, and he was taking on the role of publicity manager or something.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron to Harry, when they were all seated in the classroom.

Lia grinned. "Maybe I'll introduce Creevey to Ginny, and we can start a Harry Potter fan club."

"Shut up."

Their quarrelling died down, as Lockhart cleared his throat and launched into an egotistical introduction about himself.

"...I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" Lia was pleased when no one laughed.

She couldn't hold in a snort of disbelief when she looked at the test Lockhart had set them:

1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart 's favorite color? ("Poo-brown," Lia thought)

2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition? (To become the next Narcissus)

3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date? (The fact that Lia hadn't slapped him yet)

The questions droned on and on, the paper having three sides, until it finally finished with:

6\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be? (No one cares, and an oversized gold statue of himself)

Well, she was going to fail.

Lia wasn't surprised when Lockhart said that Hermione Granger had received full marks on the test, it was in Granger's nature to excel at everything. But she scoffed at Lockhart's secret ambition – ridding the world of evil and marketing his own hair-care potions? Maybe he could mix those two goals together and make enchanted shampoos that zapped away all your sinful thoughts!

"At least the lesson can't get any worse!" Lia thought, optimistically.

She was wrong.

Lockhart had brought in a cage full of Cornish pixies. Lia knew that they couldn't be considered dangerous, but they were annoying mischief-makers. These Cornish ones were an eye-catching shade of cobalt blue, and had jagged faces, with voices so high-pitched, they could almost break glass.

"Right, then," Lockhart said. "Let's see what you make of them!" Lia opened her mouth to tell the professor that it might be a tad more befitting if they learned the correct spell to repel them _before_ facing the pixies, when he flicked the lock and the cage door swung out.

Chaos ensued.

A pixie flew straight at Lia and tugged hard at her hair. "Ow. Quit it," she said, swatting at it with her hand. She soon lost her patience and sent a stunning spell at the pixie, causing it to fall to the ground.

Neville was now being tugged up into the sky by a group of them, so that he dangled in midair. Multiple had jetted through the window like bullets, so that an explosion of broken glass lay everywhere. Others were now running amok through the classroom, everywhere they touched ended up looking as if a hurricane had passed through – books were torn, chairs thrown about, tables pushed over, hung paintings thrown down. Lia saw with a small amount of glee that a pixie hung off Malfoy's ear. He looked like he'd been bitten on the face too.

"Come on now - round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted, which was rich considering that he had told them how dangerous these creatures were mere minutes beforehand.

Seeing that no one in the class was having any luck with the small yet enormously aggravating imps, he drew out his wand and yelled, "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" Nothing happened – it probably had been something Lockhart had made up on the spot. Her professor ended up with no wand, a pixie having thrown it out of the window. He swallowed in fear and hid under a desk.

Lia saw with wide eyes that Neville was falling perilously down as the pixies let go of his shoulders. "Aresto momentum," she cried, pointing her wand at Neville. To her relief, he immediately slowed down, and somewhat glided gracefully to the floor. At least now she knew that she could perform that charm.

Scanning her eyes around, Lia saw that the chandelier had been lifted off its hooks, and was plummeting as well. Hermione saw this too, and yelled, "Wingardium Leviosa." The ceiling light halted in its movement, slowly hovered up and reattached to the clasp.

Lia had had enough of this. She aimed at the ceiling and chanted, "Petrificus Totalus." The curse did its job, and the pixies, now paralysed, dropped down. Lia realised too late that since she had immobilised the creatures, their wings could no longer beat, meaning that they were all going to get concussions from pixies falling on them. Her thoughts flew about rapidly.

"Spongify," she said. They immediately turned elastic, soft and bouncy. One pixie bounced, benign, off her head. There was a sudden echo of multiple thumps.

"Oh dear," Lia whispered. Although her augmented spells had taken care of all the pixies, she had forgotten that amplifying the incantations would mean that the professor and other students would be affected as well. Lockhart was collapsed on the ground, unable to move, in a position that made him look as if he were a puddle of slime.

She gasped, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm so sorry! Uh … I'll just get these pixies into the cage. And then I'll say the countercurse."

Lia felt considerably awkward shoving the creatures back into the enclosure. She imagined everyone's eyes glaring holes into her back, which inspired her to try to work as fast as she could, but the pixies were numerous, and she was only one person. Finally, she was able to swing shut the lock on the door. She swiftly said the countercharm and then the countercurse for her two spells. Thankfully, it worked. She would die of embarrassment if she had to explain what had happened to another professor and ask them for help. The pixies started banging against the cage again, trying to escape.

Lia apologized persistently to Professor Lockhart straightaway – she did not want a detention - but he'd waved away her words with a casual flick of his hand. "No worries at all, Lia. Of course, I was just giving the class … a little test. Obviously, I knew all along how to deal with those pixies, so you didn't have to panic. But, a remarkable display of skill, quite beyond that of a Second Year student. Five points to Slytherin."

"Lia," Harry complained for the hundredth time, as Lockhart dismissed the class. "My bones are all liquidy. I think my muscles disintegrated."

"That would be the side effects of the softening charm," said Hermione, rubbing at her neck.

"Why couldn't you use some other spell?" grumbled Ron. "Arrastoe momantum would have worked just fine on the pixies."

"Well I'm sorry," Lia said in a sarcastic voice. "I'd like to see you do better under pressure. Besides, it's Aresto Momentum. And anyway, unless you have a time turner on you, I can't change anything can I?"

"You wouldn't have to change anything if you'd just thought before you-"

"At least I helped. All you did was scream like a little girl."

"I wasn't screaming! I was just going to-"

"Ron," snapped Hermione, cutting him off. "Don't be so rude. You should thank Lia. What she did was quite impressive."

Ron opened his mouth to throw back another retort, when Lia glanced at the clock. "Don't you three have to get to your History of Magic class?"

"What about you?" asked Harry.

"Free period," Lia said smugly.

She was passing through the corridors, heading back to the Slytherin common room, when the same body-binding curse she had used in class, hit her on the back. She fell, nose-first, onto the ground. For a minute, all she could see were the marble tiles paved along the floor. She could feel a bump forming on her head, and she was just contemplating whether or not her nose was broken, when a hand reached out and turned her over.

She was now facing the ceiling, staring into Goyle's ugly face, Crabbe following just behind him. She cursed mentally when she spotted pale blonde hair in their midst. She'd been so scatterbrained and drained after the spectacle in Defense Against the Dark Arts (which Lockhart had turned into Defense Against the Pixies), that she'd forgotten to cast her usual shield charm.

"Don't touch her!" yelled Malfoy. "She'll send a jinx at you." Lia groaned mentally. So Malfoy was smarted than he looked. And with her hands bound to her sides, she had no way of aiming any spell at the three of them.

"How do we move her then?" Crabbe grunted.

"For god's sake. Here let me." Lia felt herself lift up and hover in the air – Malfoy was using a levitating spell on her. "In here," he said, gesturing towards an abandoned classroom. He hastily said a sound-proofing spell, and locked the door.

"Tie her to that chair," he ordered. "No, Goyle! You idiot. Don't use ropes, she'll burn through them. Take those chains over there. Tightly. Make sure she won't be able to move." The cool metal dug itself into Lia's skin, as Malfoy's sidekicks looped it again and again over her body.

Mopefoy checked the chains, and when he was satisfied, he smirked at her, and said the countercurse.

Lia's entire body was shackled and immobilized, so she did the best she could with what she had. Gathering up a big wad of saliva, she opened her mouth and spat in Malfoy's face.

"What now Malfoy?" she hissed. "Are you going to rape me?""


	15. Malfoy's Proposal (Year 2)

"I don't think it's called rape if you beg for it, Agorios." Malfoy wiped the spit off his face.

"Oh, Bratfoy," Lia cooed. "It is so adorable when you talk about things you don't understand. Now." She paused. "Why _am_ I here?"

"Revenge," said Malfoy, bluntly. "And because I have questions."

"Ooooh. Is baby Malfoy still angry that I insulted his daddy? Don't worry, I'm sure he'll still change your diaper, when you run crying back to him that is."

He snorted. "After I'm finished with you? You'll be the one pissing your pants for the rest of your life."

"No." Lia gave a cold laugh. "No. I don't think you'll hurt me, Malfoy." She was surprised to find that the words rang true as she said it.

"And why ever not?" he glowered.

"You don't have it in you. You're gutless. Just like your father."

His face simmered in rage at that and he pressed one hand against the wall, leaning towards her, drawing his face nearer, so that their noses almost touched. "Say that again," he growled, his voice low and throaty.

Lia winced. He was getting a bit too close for comfort now. She met his gaze. His eyes were incensed, and a muscle twitched in his cheek. She swallowed. She knew that she had to choose her next few words carefully. Malfoy looked like he was contemplating strangling her.

"I don't think you'll hurt me," she repeated again.

Malfoy shot her a look of incredulity. "Think you can beat me, Agorios? Where's your magic now?"

"I don't need magic," she said, firmly. "You won't hurt me, Draco. Because you don't want to."

He snickered at that, resentfully, dubiously. "Channeling your inner Potter are you? Do you really think that everyone's oh so good and noble? Well, let me tell you that you're wrong, so very wrong and so very stupid ... I want to hurt you." He smirked, nastily. "Hurt you badly."

He snapped his head up. "Crabbe. Goyle. Go stand outside and watch if anyone's coming. I'm going to teach Miss Agorios here some manners."

The two stout boys looked at each other glumly, but did as Malfoy asked. No doubt they had wanted to watch the showdown that was bound to occur. Lia thought that they should have finished with it and bought along some popcorn too. They opened the door, and stepped outside, to be Malfoy's ever loyal, duteous guard dogs.

Malfoy pointed his wand at her. "Lia. Lia," he tsked. "Always too innocent for your own good. Hoping I can't do it? Father's taught me much." He held his head high in the air. "And now you're going to pay for disrespecting him. And disrespecting me." He swallowed, his tone was clear and confident. For a second, Lia thought there had been a glint of … what was that … amusement, in his eyes? What a sadistic boy.

"Crucio."

Lia recoiled back. She remembered the agony the curse had inflicted when Quirrell had struck her with it. She instinctively closed her eyes, waiting for the sound of a scream to come. And it came.

But for Lia? There was nothing. Not even a tingle went through her body. That was strange. She'd been sure that Malfoy had aimed directly at he - he was standing so close that even he couldn't have missed - and she'd seen the jet of red light. So what had happened? And who had screamed?

Malfoy swore. He was staring at his wand with chagrin. He didn't look very surprised that the curse had not worked. There was now an ugly red mark on his cheek, as if he'd been burnt. Although he had been glaring disdainfully at Lia beforehand, he now seemed unable to meet her eyes.

She took the time, while he was distracted, to rage at him. "Crucio? CRUCIO? CRUCIO! HOW DARE YOU! Malfoy, you better hope your parents bought you life insurance, because you're dead meat! Oh, you're going to be expelled! No … that's an unforgivable curse that is. HA. You're going to fucking Azkaban. Even your father can't get you out of this one."

He shot daggers at her. "Calm down."

"Calm down? You want me to calm down? You … you just tried to torture me! How do I calm down after that? Oh when I get my hands around your ne-"

"I knew it wasn't going to work."

"You knew it wasn't going to work? OH! I see now. Well now everything's alright isn't it? Sure you did. That's a bloody believable excuse."

"You burnt me," he said, the tone was condemning, but his eyes, his eyes sparkled with veneration.

She didn't stop to think though; she was too angry for that. "And you fucking deserved it. You deserve worse, you bastard! Come here and face me like a man! I'm going to freaking kill you!"

"You burnt me," he said again. "You _burnt_ me. You burnt-"

"Are you a fucking parrot?" Lia cut in.

"Lia! This is wonderful! You passed the test!" She hadn't been expecting that.

"I passed the test? What test? You're trying to lie to me again! Well, you know what?" She was beside herself with fury. "I'm not going to bloody believe you. You're going to Azkaban. And that's that!"

"No, Lia!" Malfoy looked smug. "Don't you see? You burnt me. While you didn't have a wand! And you didn't even need to say an incantation!"

"It was a heat of the moment thing," said Lia, her wrath rising up again. "Especially since you tried to use the cruciatus curse on me! Oh, you're going to get it –"

"We can date now!" Malfoy interjected suddenly, stopping Lia from finishing her speech about how she going to chop Malfoy's balls off. His tone was almost merry.

There was a long pause.

"WHAT. THE. FUCK?"

She blew up, choked on her own spit, and started hacking. Her anger was replaced with shock. This had to be the most bewildered she had ever been. Never in a million - scratch that, a _billion_ years, would she have thought that those words would come out of Draco Freaking Malfoy's mouth. Was she dreaming?

Malfoy gave a small look of disgust at Lia, who was still croaking and gasping for breath.

"You see, obviously when I still believed that you were a Potter, I didn't have any feelings for you. It's not my fault though. At that time, everyone thought you were a halfblood. And Harry's sister at that." He said those phrases with scorn. "It's a bit unfortunate because we wasted that whole year. But now? I've spoken to father and since you're a pureblood, and the daughter of a death eater, he's given me permission to fancy you.

"He is angry about what you did in Flourish and Blotts, make no mistake. He thought you were an impudent child at first, but he recognized your bravery. And bravery is valued. What's more, you are young, so you have the potential to change. You were raised by muggle scum and with that filthy Harry Potter, so it's understandable that some … unpleasant residue might still be in you. But my blood's pure enough for the both of us. Father told me that it's my mission now to clean you of the stain you've got from associating with trash like the Weasleys and the Grangers."

Malfoy continued. "Of course, there's many other families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight that are deserving of my affections. For example, mother always liked Pansy Parkinson. One of her ancestors was once Minister for Magic, you know? I'd thought that we would end up together."

He smirked a little. "But after last year? Parkinson's blood is pure, but her magic is weak. You would make a much worthier companion – you're a pureblood, and an awe-inspiring witch. I had to be sure though. That's why I thought of this test. So I could see what you could really do when you were threatened. And I'm impressed." He hesitated. "You have nice eyes too. More attractive, than Parkinson's at least."

Lia was going to faint. Her heart was beating so fast that she was afraid she'd have a heart attack. "What are you thinking, Malfoy? Literally, five minutes ago, you were threatening to kill me! You said … you said … you were looking forward to hurting me!"

"I'm a good liar," said Malfoy. "I was playing you. How else would I be able to see the true extent of your abilities? And I did. You showed me. You burned me." He looked almost happy at the fact that he now had a burn mark on his face.

"You used Crucio!"

"I knew that it wouldn't work, I told you before. It only has an effect if you truly want to inflict pain. And I've never really wanted to hurt you. You said so yourself."

"Well, maybe. But I did _not_ mean that you were … what? Secretly in love with me!"

"Love? It's not _love_. Emotions don't matter," Malfoy scowled, looking offended. "This, this is logic and reason! We're a couple that would work perfectly together. I'm rich, and my father's powerful. You're powerful, but you're poor and your parents are dead. We make sense!"

"We make sense? What part of this makes sense in your idiotic brain? And emotions don't matter? Do you have any idea what real relationships are meant to be like? I've never seen such a small mind in such a big head before! And there is no _we_. There is no _us_. There is _me_. And there is _you_. I hate you. You hate me."

"I don't hate you. I used to, maybe. But not anymore. You've proven yourself."

"I don't believe this. Malfoy. Let me out." He shook his head. "Let me out! I need to knock some sense into you!"

"No," he said, willfully.

Lia was about to scream profanities at him, but she shoved it back down. What could she do now? Malfoy was watching her, with eyes full of anticipation.

There was another lengthy silence.

She forced a smile onto her face. "Draco," she said, slowly. "Draco, I think I finally understand now. You're right. We do belong together."

She swallowed her pride. "I was just a lost girl, who had been much too brainwashed by her brother and his friends to see properly. But my vision is clear now. Earlier, I must have been too confused, blinded by rage, I was really angry you know? I see now. You're right. I'm grateful that someone like you, a Malfoy, has taken interest in me."

He smirked. "Finally. Took you long enough."

"Draco. You know what we must do now?"

"What?" asked Malfoy. "Kiss?"

Lia barely stopped her voice from shaking with alarm. "No, save that for later. We first have to announce our … coupling, to the Slytherins!"

"You're right," he said. "Alohamora." The chains around Lia loosened and she stood up. She gave another forced smile to Malfoy.

"And my wand?" she asked. Malfoy paused. "Draco. You have to give it back to me someday. How else will I be able to learn magic? How else will I be able to … to become a witch worthy of you?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Right again." He handed the wand back to her, their hands brushing during the process.

As soon as her wand reached her fingertips, Lia pulled away instantly. She sent a body-binding curse at Malfoy, who toppled over, his eyes still wide with shock.

"Mopefoy," she spat. "You dare kidnap me? And … and … insult me with your ignorance like that? You want to know how I feel about you? I wasn't born with enough middle fingers to show you! Try shit like that again, and I promise you, you won't have a dick to breed Little Malfoys for your father anymore."

She glared down at him. "I didn't like you before. I don't like you now. And I won't ever like you. Do you hear me? You're a bigoted, chauvinistic bully, and you're not worth a single strand of my hair." She scoffed. "How could you even think that I cared about blood? What good is blood status anyway? We're all human. We're all witches and wizards. We all bleed just the same. So don't go trying to … to 'clean me of my stain'. I don't want you imposing your brainless, moronic ideas on me."

She groaned in irritation. "And Malfoy? Next time you try to pick up a girl? I hope you try to be more romantic. You're going to end up dying alone at this rate."

Lia stormed out of the room, but not before she'd said, "Shalvios," and Malfoy's eyebrows had promptly fallen off.

As she stalked away, she met Crabbe and Goyle at the corridor, who stared at her in shock. "You prats," Lia hissed. They looked terrified. "I'll curse you into oblivion!" She didn't though. But she did finish with a nice Bat-Bogey Hex, which left them running wildly, swiping at the bats that flew out of their nostrils.

She was still infuriated when she arrived back at her dormitory. Tracey had been about to chat with her, but she'd taken one look at the thunderous expression on her face, and slinked out.

Who did Malfoy think he was? He was such a pig-headed arsehole – talking as if, she, Lia, was somehow below him. As if he was some God, bestowing her with his attention.

She ranted on and on, silently, in her mind.

Underneath it all, there was a small part of her, a very small part, that knew that not all of her anger was directed towards Malfoy. A tiny bit was at herself.

For when Malfoy had been standing so close to her, leaning towards her, that blond hair falling across his brow, there had been a moment when Lia _had_ marvelled at how silver his eyes looked in the light, and she _had_ thought of what it would have felt like if she kissed those flushed lips.


	16. Changing Slytherin's Ideals (Year 2)

"Flint!" Oliver Wood's angry voice bellowed at the Slytherin Quidditch Captain. "I specifically booked this practice time. You and your team need to clear off!"

Although Wood was tall and muscled from years of Quidditch training, he was no match compared to Marcus Flint, who towered over him with a repellent, cunning look on his face.

"Plenty of room for both of us. Or did daddy not teach you, sharing is caring?" he said. His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"But I booked the field! I booked it far in advance!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. Let me read it out to you. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker and Chaser'."

"You have a new Seeker? And a new Chaser? Where?"

From his position behind the five, large brawny boys, and the petite, feminine figure, Draco Malfoy stepped out. He was the second shortest there, and a smirk was plastered on his face. He had gone to Madam Pomfrey, once Goyle had finally said the countercurse right, and his eyebrows were back, with fine threads of pale hair spread in a high arch.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" Fred asked. He eyed the boy with obvious displeasure.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as most of the Slytherin team smiled still even more broadly. The shorter, girlish figure had disappeared behind the burlier youths. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

The Gryffindors tried to disguise their awe and jealousy, as they looked at the Slytherins' new broomsticks. They were startling well-polished, with fresh new handles glistening in the sunlight. Printed on the brooms, in golden lettering, was 'Nimbus Two Thousand and One'.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month. I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" – Marcus' smile as he glanced at Fred and George's Cleansweep Fives, was nasty indeed - "sweeps the board with them."

"Oh, look," said Flint, at the sight of Ron and Hermione running down to meet them. "Field invasion."

"What's going on?" Ron asked, turning to Harry. "Why aren't you playing?" He saw Malfoy and grimaced. "And what's he doing here?"

"Ah. Well, isn't the whole party here now?" Flint drawled. "I think it's perfect timing for us to introduce our new Slytherin Seeker, Draco Malfoy," – Malfoy grinned smugly – "and our Chaser, Daliah Agorios."

Lia felt herself being pushed forwards, and stumbled. She'd been trying to hide at the back, and avoid the Gryffindor team's gaze. As she came, lurching into their full line of view, she saw their eyes widen in surprise.

"Lia?" said Harry. He was looking at her as if she had committed a monstrous betrayal.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Harry. Don't you all give me that look!" She turned her nose up high. "What is it a crime to play Quidditch now?"

Harry looked a bit guilty, but still said with accusation, "You didn't tell me you were trying out."

Lia shot Flint a look. " _I_ didn't even know I was, until yesterday that is. I'm being _forced_ to play on the team. Against my will!" She sighed. "What happens if I can't even fly? Or I get knocked out by a bludger? Sport's not really my thing."

"You'll be fine," Graham Montague snapped at her. "Malfoy said he saw you on a broom last year and you were alright. Besides," he smiled, "With the brooms that Malfoy's father has bought us, even you won't be able to mess up too badly."

Ron did a double take as he spotted the Nimbus broomsticks. His mouth fell open.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

All of the Slytherin team, except Lia, began to howl with laughter. Lia looked down at her shoes, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She didn't really mind if Harry was pissed at her, he'd get over it. But she really didn't want the Weasleys and the other Gryffindors to hate her.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione, her voice sharp. "They got in on pure talent."

Lia could help but let out a giggle. The Slytherins glared at her darkly. "What?" she said. "...It was a good insult. Don't lie to yourselves, it was."

Malfoy - who hadn't spoken so much as a word to her, since the incident in the deserted classroom – shot daggers at her. His previously haughty expression had faded away.

Turning to Hermione, he spat, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood."

Lia gave a gasp of outrage. She'd heard him call Hermione a mudblood before, but she hadn't thought that he would actually be dumb enough to say it to his face.

She found that both she, Fred and George had launched themselves at Malfoy. Sadly, she wasn't able to pummel him, as Flint dived in front, blocking her.

"Lia," her Captain hissed to her. "Stop acting like this, or I'll kick you off the team."

She scoffed. "Go ahead. It's not like I wanted to be here in the first place. You only _forced_ me to join because Snape offered to give Slytherin forty points if you recruited a girl. We were getting a lot of backlash for being a sexist, all-male team, you know?"

She paused. "That, and because you thought having me flying around the pitch during a match, would throw Harry and the Weasleys off their game."

There was a sudden deafening bang – Ron had pulled out his semi-broken wand and shot a spell at Malfoy. However, it hadn't actually struck him, but instead came out of the wrong side, hitting Ron straight in the stomach. He was forced backwards, and collapsed on the grass.

Lia watched in horror as he gagged and, opening his mouth, promptly regurgitated a pile of nice, fat, slimy slugs.

"Get him to Hagrid's," she said to Harry and Hermione, looking at Malfoy, who was currently crying of laughter. "I'll deal with that brat." She walked over and his amusement fell at the sight of her face.

"You'll never learn, will you Malfoy?" she said coldly, shaking her head. She was feeling particularly cruel, so she took a jab at him. "Still going to try 'clean me of my stain'?"

His voice was equally as cold when he retorted. "No." His face was set like stone. "I'm beginning to think that the damage is permanent."

She snorted, and then lingered for a moment, musing. "Why _do_ you hate muggle-borns so much? I just don't understand." She scrunched up her eyebrows. "I get this feeling that you think they're all blood-crazed, vile beasts, or something … But that's just not right. Most of them aren't actually half bad. Look at Hermione, for instance? She's a hell of a lot more pleasant than you are."

"They're impure," Draco said immediately. The Slytherins had started nodding in approval. "Besides, Agorios, you're a pureblood yourself."

"And blood traitors don't belong in Slytherin," said Flint.

"Who belongs in Slytherin then? Boneheads, like yourself? I suppose there _are_ a lot of students in our house who don't let their education get in the way of their ignorance."

"You-" But Lia didn't stop to allow Flint to talk.

"And you five," she said, swerving to pierce Adrian Pucey, Miles Bletchley, Graham Montague and Johnathan Whittley – the other five players on Slytherin's Quidditch team - with a death stare. "I don't recall seeing any of your last names in the Pure-blood Directory. You must have some amount of muggle ancestry in you.

"So, don't you go acting," she flicked a strand of hair from her face, "… as if you're the most important brats on Earth around me! Although I do suppose that you all seem mildly better than Flint and Malfoy. They were on the directory. But I don't think that as good of a thing as everyone seems to think.

"I've heard that all the 'true' pureblood families have some sort of incest going on there. Aren't you related to the Blacks, the Burkes, the Gamps and the Bulstrodes, Flint? And Malfoy, I don't think I can even count the amount of wizarding families you're related to. Aren't the Lestranges and the Greengrasses your cousins?"

She let out a slow whistle. "I can't imagine how well your Christmas dinners could go. Next minute … You find out your mum's your aunt!"

"It does explain the craziness though. Inbreeding tends to result in offspring with less than stellar genetics." She grinned. "If the pureblood families were anymore in-bred, you'd all make fine sandwiches. I don't know how you call muggles 'impure', considering the sort of stuff your ancestors did behind closed doors.

"But you should know that we have this sort of problem in the muggle world too. Not incest. That's frowned upon, everywhere, I think. You'll still go to jail if you fuck your brother …" She cleared her throat.

"I'm talking about this disease called racism. It's sort of like pureblood supremacy? But," she said slowly. "It's considered by most to be a horrible form of oppression. Shocking isn't it? And it's funny too. Even the muggles' views are more advanced than you lots'."

She knew that she was semi-ranting, but she couldn't stop. "At least most non-wizarding communities recognise that you can't put people in boxes. How can you just say that Europeans are good, and African Americans are bad?"

"What are you on about?" Malfoy deadpanned.

Lia faltered. "Well, in your case, I guess … I guess that it would be that purebloods are good, and muggle-borns are bad. It's…it's," she scrunched up her forehead. "It's blood-ism!"

Then, Lia shook her head and looked at the floor. "But then again. I'm being too mean. Just like people don't choose to be muggle-born, you guys didn't really choose to be pureblood supremacists. Your parents must have forced it on you as soon as you were born, didn't they? I suspect that most of you never even knew any better. After all, a wise man did tell me once that people aren't born evil."

There was a period of silence. The fact that no one had spoken a word, even Flint who looked incensed, spoke volumes to Lia. It gave her the courage to keep going.

"Slytherins don't have to be muggle-haters you know? Look at me," she grinned. "I'm a prime example!"

"You know what …" An idea had stuck her. "I'm going to educate you. After all, education _is_ the best weapon against racism, so it could work for bloodism too!"

"No, thanks," Pucey snorted.

"We have Muggle Studies already," said Malfoy.

"Yeah," said Lia. "But my classes will be fun! Oh! You'll just love them!"

Most of the Slytherins stomped away, some rolling their eyes, scoffing at her. Lia saw that sometime during her very, very long speech, she had managed to gather a crowd. It wasn't just made up of Slytherins now; but also Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and the occasional Ravenclaw.

"We love Lia!" shouted George.

"Lia for Minister!" yelled Fred.

She grinned across the yard at them, her cheeks pink.

"That was stupid," Malfoy muttered as he passed her. "Stupid, Lia. You've made yourself some enemies."

"I can take care of myself," she said. "I'm not a trembling little first year anymore." She smirked at him. "Aren't you excited Malfoy? You can be my special case. You know what? One day I'll get you to talk to Granger's parents civilly. And then I'll know I've gotten though your thick heads."

"You wouldn't be able to, not even if you used 'Imperio on me."

"So sure already, Malfoy? … I smell a bet."

He sniffed. "You must be a moron if you think you can actually do it. But I do like easy winnings. You'll need more than a lifetime, so … I'll give you until the end of Fifth Year. If I win … if I win, you'll apologise to my father."

"Ew," Lia wrinkled her nose.

"And … you'll admit that I'm a hell of a lot better than Harry Potter is. In fact … you'll run around the common room with your undies on your head, chanting 'Draco is my prince! Potter sucks!'"

"That's a lot to ask for."

"Weren't you sure that you would succeed though?"

"Fine. But if … No ... _When_ , I win, you'll … you'll grant me a favour. Just one small favour."

"What favour?"

"I'll decide it when I feel like it," she raised a brow in challenge. "Are you in?"

"Prepare to lose." He stuck out his hand, and she shook it.

"Malfoy," she said, afterwards. "You're such a beautiful, intelligent person." He stared at her, as if she'd sprouted another pair of eyes. "Oh I'm sorry … I thought we were having a lying competition?"

"Ha. Funny. Lia. I may be filthy rich, but I'm not buying your bull."

They kept on bickering, on and on, as they walked back to the common room. Their previous awkwardness, anger and embarrassment over the kidnap episode was not forgotten by either of them, but they were glad to shove the event into the backs of their minds and avoid thinking about it.

Eventually, whilst the two argued, Lia said something so insulting to Malfoy, that he snapped back with an even uglier retort. She'd reached up and snatched a fistful of hair right off his shiny head.

It seemed that things were back to normal again.


	17. Salazar's Heir (Year 2)

"Face your partners," Gilderoy Lockhart called out.

It was their first ever duelling class, and Lia and Pansy were locked in a death stare. Both of their faces spelled murder. "And bow!" Lia smirked and gave Pansy a theatrical curtsy, which she finished off by flicking up her middle finger at the other girl.

"Wands at the ready!" Lockhart shouted. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents - only to disarm them-"

Lia scoffed. If they wanted them to only disarm, Snape really should have thought twice before pairing her with Haginson, Harry with Malfoy, and Hermione with Bulstrode.

"- we don't want any accidents - one ... two ... three -"

"Calvario." Lia flicked her wand. Parkinson's mouse brown hair fell down to the floor, leaving her as bald as a coot.

She let out a shriek of fury. "Melofors!" Lia deflected the jinx.

Her eyes searched the room. Harry had evidently hit Malfoy with a Tickling Charm, for he was doubled over laughing on the ground, his eyes less than amused. All around the hall, everyone seemed to have forgotten that they were supposed to only be disarming - it was as entertaining to watch as it was chaotic.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted.

Parkinson ignored him, and sent a curse flying; which would have left Lia with painful painful boils on her face, had she not hastily conjured up a shield charm.

She just about to shrink Pansy into a rat, when Lockhart shouted, "Stop! Stop!"

Lia payed no heed to him, and pointed her wand at Parkinson. "Porunia Des-"

She couldn't finish the incantation, for Snape shifted his gaze from staring at Malfoy and Potter, to yell at Lia, who was still frowning at the bald Pansy, her wand held in front of her.

"Agorios!" he barked. "Forty house points will be taken from Slytherin, if you do not stop duelling this instant!" He had probably seen the expression on Lia's face and had decided that it would be unwise to allow her to send Parkinson to St. Mungos.

"Well, that's hardly fair," she said. "I'm not the only one blasting spells around. What about what Parkinson shot at m-"

She stopped at the look on Snape's face. She wasn't sure if the potions master would actually take the threatened points away, but she knew that it would be unwise to test him - too much that is.

"Fine. Stupefy," she said. Haginson collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"That's not what I meant!" Snape roared.

"Oops," said Lia with a hint of irony, after a pause, she continued, "We _have_ stopped duelling now, though. Isn't that what you wanted?"

He looked as if he was going to growl another warning at her, but Harry was struck with 'Tarantallegra' and Snape was forced to tear his attention away to yell, "Finite Incantatem".

"Oh dear," said Lockhart, taking in the disarray that lay before him. It was a bit of an understatement. "Come now. Up you get, Macmillan. Pinch hard to stop the bleeding, Miss Fawcett."

"Perhaps," said Snape. "It would be a better idea to teach them to block unfriendly spells. First."

"Yes," said Lockhart, looking flustered, "Weasley, Finnigan, how about you two?"

"Weasley's wand causes devastation with the simplest of spells. We'll be sending Finnigan home in a matchbox." Ron flushed. "How about … Malfoy and Potter?" Snape's face was set in a smirk.

"Excellent idea!"

"No, it wasn't," Lia thought. She warily watched Harry and Mopefoy move up to the centre. She wasn't sure which one looked angrier or more vindictive … This was _totally_ going to end well.

"Three … two … one … go!"

"Serpensortia!" Malfoy quickly hollered.

Out of the end of his wand, a slithering snake exploded out, it raised its body up, tan eyes staring at Harry, looking ready to strike. Lia pushed her way around the other gawking students, moving to the front of the crowd, so that she stood only a metre away from Harry and the serpent.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape, with a lazy tone. "I'll get rid of it …"

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. Lia groaned. The professor yelled, "Alarte Ascendare!"

Why did he even choose to use that spell? The only good it did was send the snake flying up high into the air. When it landed, it looked even more enraged, and poised itself to strike Justin Finch-Fletchley – the brunette boy who stood opposite Lia.

Harry was running forward now, he yelled, "Leave him alone!" at the snake.

As if it had understood him, the serpent slunk around, so that it was gazing at Harry again. It hissed in her brother's face, like it was irritated that it had been forced to obey his command.

"Come here," Lia said warmly, as if she were talking to a small child. She'd always liked snakes. "It's alright. You don't need to be scared. We won't hurt you. We're all nice people."

The snake glided over to her. For some reason, Lia thought that its stare had become much friendly, and its hiss took on more of a purr. She raised up a hand, and the snake nudged its head at her palm. It really was a beautiful creature: with its olive green body and the bright yellow bands that adorned it. Its long forked tongue flicked out, and that pair of intelligently shiny, tan eyes peered at her.

"Aw," Lia cooed. "Aren't you a sweetheart?" she said, patting its scaly skin. "Who's a good snake? Who's a good snake? I think I'll name you Cleo."

"Have you gone completely mental?" asked Harry. "Lia. Step away. Before you get rabies."

Cleo hissed again at Harry. "Don't listen to the mean boy," Lia said. "He's just jealous of your exquisite fangs."

She looked up, grinning. She and Harry turned to check on Justin, expecting him to thank them. After all, they had saved him from getting punctured with snake venom. The boy didn't even look relieved though, merely angry and afraid.

"What do you two think you're playing at?" He stormed off, before Lia could scold him for being so ungrateful.

Snape raised his wand, preparing to vanish the snake, when Lia called out. "Wait!" He turned, and she saw that there was a shrewd, calculating look on his face.

"Wait," Lia said again. "Professor … could I ... could I, keep her? As a pet."

"I should think that a King Cobra would be far too large and dangerous to be living in your dormitory."

"Oh," said Lockhart. "Let the girl have the beast. Look at her. She looks miserable. Besides," he smiled, showing a row of pearly whites. "I can always shrink it or remove it, if it becomes a pest. And I know the perfect potion to act as an antidote to the venom."

Lia almost felt bad for ridiculing Lockhart, even if he was unreasonably arrogant. Snape looked like he was contemplating using 'Avada Kedavra' on the snake, but he hesitated, finally giving a stiff nod.

"If I hear any complaints," he said coldly. "Any complaints at all, I will not delay in disposing of the creature. And if that snake bites a student? You'll be expelled immediately, no exceptions."

Lia gave a cry of joy. "Thank you, Professor Snape! Thank you!" She almost moved to hug the potions master, who stepped back looking uneasy. She picked the snake up and it wrapped around her shoulders like a scarf. There was an unfavourable muttering in the room. Stares flickered between her and Harry. Hurried whispers echoed around them.

"What?" Lia thought. "Don't wizards keep snakes as pets?" She could have sworn that she'd seen multiple pythons for sale in Diagon Alley.

"Come on." Ron tugged on Harry and Lia's arms, dragging them out of the hall, Hermione at their feet. "Move … come on …" The other students jumped out of the way as they passed. Some of the Slytherins were looking at Lia in awe, staring at the snake hissing around her neck.

Ron shoved them all the way up to the deserted Gryffindor common room, where he pushed her and Harry into armchairs.

"Are you sure I'm allowed in here?" said Lia. "Aren't you scared I'll infect your stuff with my Slytherinness?"

Ron ignored her. "You're Parselmouths. Why didn't you tell us?"

"We're what?" asked Lia.

"A Parselmouth! You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," Harry said. "That has to be the second time we've done it. Once, we set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once – long story. Remember Lia?"

"How could I forget such a glorious event?"

"It was telling us that it'd never seen Brazil, and we sort of set it free without meaning to, but that was long before we knew that we were wizards, so it was quite confusing at the time, I thought we'd both gone mad."

"A boa constrictor? A snake told you it'd never seen Brazil?" Ron looked faint.

"So?" Lia said. "I bet lots of people here can do it."

"I think not," said Ron. "They can't. This is bad. It's not a very common gift, Harry, Lia. This is bad."

"Why's it bad?" asked Lia. "They're just snakes." She scoffed. "It's like everyone at Hogwarts suddenly got Ophidiophobia."

"Yeah. I don't see why they're all acting so odd," Harry said. "If I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin -"

"Oh, so that's what you said?"

"What do you mean?" Lia was at a loss. "You were all there. Didn't you hear him?"

"I heard you start speaking Parselmouth," said Ron. "And you followed Lia. No one else knew what you were saying at all – it's no wonder that Justin was so scared, it sounded like you were egging the snake on or something. And then you went over, hissing that strange language, and patted it on the head, Lia! Like you were telling it good job! It was all very creepy, you know –"

They were both gaping open-mouthed at Ron.

"A different language? How could we speak another language without knowing how to speak it? And Lia understood me!"

Ron and Hermione were both looking terribly upset. It was as if Justin had really been bitten by the snake and was now dead.

"What's so bad about stopping a giant snake from biting Justin's head off -" Harry asked.

"Cleo wasn't going to do that," Lia said. "She's a good snake."

"It matters," said Hermione, in a hushed voice. "…because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Their mouths fell open.

"I always thought that the symbol was because Salazar loved snakes!" said Lia. "And because they're cold blooded creatures!"

"The whole school's going to think that you two are his great-great-great-great-grandson and granddaughter, or something … Lia why in gods name did you have to adopt that creature. The snake's going to make everything worse and –"

"But we're not," said Harry, panicking, as Lia swore. "We're not related to Salazar Slytherin."

"That's going to be a tad hard to prove," Lia said. "He lived about a thousand years ago. I mean, for all we know Harry, we totally could be." She groaned. "Oh no. What if we turn out to be related again?"

The next time Lia saw Harry was at night the following day, when she was heading from the common room towards the library. After what had happened during the duelling club, she was eager to scavenge for information regarding Parseltongue.

"Harry?" Lia asked. Her brother was lying on the floor. It appeared that he had tripped and fallen over … merlin … what was that body? … it looked like … like Justin Finch-Fletchley!

She cursed. This was not good. It appeared that the boy had been petrified, like Filch's cat and the Creevey boy. Next to him, hovering in the air, was Nearly Headless Nick, blackened and no longer transparent. She nearly screamed.

"Oh god. Harry," she said, distractedly noting the trail of spiders that scampered away from the bodies. "Harry, we have to get out of here! If anyone sees us … oh but we need to get help! They're going to think that we had something to do with this!"

Lia had heard the whispers behind her back when the students thought that she was distracted. How apparently Harry had told her that Justin was muggle-born, and that together they'd teamed up to attack him. That they were both some sort of dark wizards, working together to destroy anyone whose blood wasn't pure enough.

It was as if they'd all forgotten that Harry's parents had been slaughtered mercilessly by Voldemort, and as if Lia hadn't given that lengthy speech about the irrationality of pureblood supremacy to the Slytherin Quidditch Team.

She supposed that from their point of view, it was all a bit suspicious – she was a Slytherin; the daughter of a death-eater; a Parselmouth; not bad at all at spells; and she was best friends with Harry Potter, who was suspected to be formidable in the dark arts, being the only person who had ever survived the killing curse. Plus, she also had a 'S' shaped scar on her arm. And now owned a pet snake.

Just bloody wonderful.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" Lia froze at Peeves' voice. "And little Miss Lay Lay. What are we up to? Lurking in the –"

Peeves spotted the two bodies – one collapsed on the ground, the other suspended in mid-air. Before she could do anything, he screamed at the top of his lungs, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

"Shut up!" she hissed, but it was too late. Classroom doors flung open and students poured into the corridor. Professor McGonagall came running, her transfiguration class straggling after her. As she caught sight of the petrified bodies, she pulled out her wand, a loud bang echoed around, and the students were ordered back to their classrooms. The crowd cleared away slightly, although many were still gaping, dumbstruck, at the sight.

"Caught in the act!" Ernie's face was as white as a sheet, as he pointed accusatory fingers at Lia and Harry.

"That will do, Macmillan!" McGonagall said with a snap, and Peeves suddenly broke into song, smiling evilly:

"Oh, Potter, you rotter, with Lia the fle-a, oh, what have you done, You're killing off' students, you think it's good fun -"

"Fuc ... Go away Peeves!" Lia yelled. The ghost blew a raspberry at her.

* * *

After a fretful conversation with Dumbledore, in which his phoenix had burst into flames, Hagrid had come barging through yelling about Harry's innocence, and the headmaster finally quenched her fears of being expelled, Lia was eventually back in the Slytherin common room.

The chamber was silent as she walked in. Head spun around to stare at her, and eyes rested upon the snake that glided on the floor, never straying far from her side.

"What do you think you're all looking at?" she snapped, and stomped across to plop herself onto a plush armchair. She was about to grab a book off the table, when she found herself staring into Marcus Flint's copper eyes.

"Ahem," Flint cleared his throat. "Lia. I wanted to say-" He looked as if he was sucking on a bottle of poison, whilst standing in the middle of an ignited fireplace. "I wanted to say," he tried again, "…that I'm sorry."

"Pardon me?" Lia choked. "You're what?"

"I'm sorry."

"Shit … Everyone step back! And someone fetch Snape! Flint's being possessed! Or Imperio-ed," She narrowed her eyes. "Who was it? Own up now." She spotted Malfoy in the corner. "Mopefoy. It was you wasn't it?"

"Listen to me!" Spittle was flying out of Flint's mouth. "Goddamnit. I'm sorry -"

Lia gaped at him. She was pretty sure that she would be able to count all the times that he had ever said 'sorry' to someone before on her hand. And now? He'd said it to her! And what? How many was it? Three times already! What was happening to the world?

Flint continued. "- for doubting you. We all are. When I heard you speak on the yard the other day, I thought you were one of those disgusting blood traitors. But I know better now."

This conversation was beginning to sound dreadfully like one she had once had with Malfoy.

"You must have been putting on a disguise, so that the professors, and those filthy Gryffindors wouldn't know your true identity."

"And ... and, what is my 'identity'?" She was overwhelmed.

Flint gave her a wicked simper. "You don't need to hide anymore. We all support you." The Slytherins started nodding. Flint sucked in a breath.

"... We know that you're the Heir of Slytherin!"

Lia gawked at him.

"Oh! Not you too!" She burst into laughter. "Ha, ha, ha! Aha, ha, ha, ha! Ohh, I wish I could go back in time and record that. You said sorry to me. You actually apologised!

"Merlin!" She could barely get the words out; she was guffawing so much. "What? Are you hoping I can go kill some muggle-borns off for you? Set my monster loose on Alicia Spinnet? I know you envy her. She's always been better than you at Quidditch."

"So you admit it then?" Flint said, his eyes wide. "You really have your own monster? Wow! What does it look like?"

"You know, just because I'm in Slytherin and I like snakes, doesn't mean that I'm the -"

She didn't get to finish though, for Tracey Davis had grabbed onto her arm. "Sorry guys," she said. "Just stealing our champion for the moment. I think she's a bit too … excited from all the attention." The Slytherins grumbled in disappointment. "Just a minute."

"What are you doing?" Lia whined, as she was pulled forcibly into her dormitory. "I was having fun and-"

"I know you're not the Heir of Slytherin -" Tracey began.

"Well obviously," said Lia.

"- you talk far too much about how you despise Malfoy for that. But, you shouldn't go telling them all that! Don't you see how you could use this to your advantage?"

"Uh ... not really? What? Should I threaten to kill them in their sleep?"

"No!" Davis shook her head. "I thought you were meant to be cunning!"

Lia stared at her, waiting.

"Geez, use that big brain of yours! If they think that you're the Heir of Slytherin, don't you realise how much power you'll have over them?"

She blinked. "I do like power."

"They'll practically do anything you want! And, it'll give you more chance of catching who the real culprit behind this is. The Slytherin's will tell you anything. Most of them are intimidated by you already, and now you have their respect too. And... even better, if whoever's actually the heir is stupid enough to point out your lie? Well, you'll know who's responsible then. You can be like an undercover agent."

"Woah." She was taken aback. "That's actually ... brilliant, Tracey!"

Davis grinned.

"How long did it take you to think of that one?"

She kept smiling and stuck out her tongue. Then her face turned grave.

"Remember how I told you that I'm a half-blood? Mum's already written to me about how I'm coming straight back home, to be homeschooled, if the petrifying doesn't stop. Even she's scared - and I'm a Slytherin, from a wizarding family! She says that after the muggle-borns are all finished, whoever it is will be after the halfbloods next."

Lia shuddered. "It's a cruel world. But don't worry, Trace, we'll catch them, we'll find out who's up to this, make no mistake. And we'll make sure they regret their actions."

"Come on," Tracey said, tugging her. "Everyone's waiting for you downstairs."

Lia walked out, trying to seem elegant and powerful when she treaded down the steps. She cleared her throat, attracting all the eyes in the room to her face.

"It's good to see that everyone here is a true Slytherin. It's good to see that you all support me." She tried to say the next words as confidently as she could. "I am the Heir. You've discovered my secret."

A cheer erupted in the room.

"Who's the next victim?" a voice called out.

"What's in the Chamber of Secrets?" another yelled.

"Recruit me to your army!"

"Let me help you."

"How are you getting around the school?"

"Show us the monster!"

"What's your next move?"

Lia raised up one hand. She surveyed the room with a cold eye. "Do you think I'm an idiot? That I would actually tell all of you what my plans were? There's so many here that I don't trust."

She glared. "I know some here are ... are" - she forced herself to spit out the word - "blood traitors. Or faking your blood status. You'll go running to Dumbledore as soon as I said a word!" Already, some Slytherins were staring distrustfully at their peers. "But if you tell anyone ... anyone at all! That I'm the heir? You won't last the night."

"For -," she repeated again for good measure, "- I _am_ Slytherin's heir." She smiled nefariously. "And the Chamber of Secrets has been reopened."

* * *

A/N: Hi my lovely readers!

Thank you so much for sticking with the story! I don't usually do author's notes, but I just wanted to apologise about the pace of the novel. When I started planning this fanfiction, there were so many canon scenes that I wanted to try.

We're seventeen chapters in now, and there's barely been any romance! I'm sorry!

I just thought that it would be a bit more believable if Lia and Draco started off as enemies, since J.K. Rowling did give him some dickish traits. Malfoy forever though :D

Things will definitely be picking up during Lia's fourth year. I thought that she's still a bit too young right now, at twelve, to have a truly meaningful relationship. Her second year's almost complete now, and I've only got a scene with the polyjuice potion, and one with the basilisk left to do.

* * *

Just to pique everyone's interest a bit, here's an extract from a scene I've already written, that will appear soon enough:

 _Draco looked back at her with a glare that dissolved into a bitter laugh. He shook his head._

 _"Why you? Why is it you, Agorios? … You annoy the hell out of me," he said, his voice passive as if stating a fact._

 _"Likewise."_

 _"You never know when to shut up."_

 _"Says you."_

 _"You're nothing like any of the girls I know."_

 _"Well, you're not exactly what I was expecting either."_

 _"You dated Zabini. And he's a disgusting prat."_

 _"You dated Pansy. She's a sadistic bitch."_

 _"Your hair never –"_

 _"- This is very romantic isn't it," Lia interjected. She was staring to get rather offended._

 _Draco groaned. "You're not really making this any easier. I was saying that … I … well … I –"_

 _"Stop stammering."_

 _"I'm not trying to okay! Just shut up and listen. I'm trying. I'm trying okay?" When his eyes met hers, they were so pleading that they pierced Lia with guilt._

 _Draco sucked in a shaky breath. "You're infuriating and stubborn and rude, Lia. You never know when to give up, and you're so … you're just so prickling. Like a … a deadly yet beautiful rose. And when I'm with you, I always seem to lose my mind_

 _"But you're smart Lia, and kind, and selfless – as much as you would hate to admit it. And you make me … you make me. Make feel like I can be a good person. Like I can rise above the bigotry that my parents raised me in._

 _"I guess what I'm trying to say is … I … I like you Val. I like you. I really do." He ran a hand through his hair, looking relieved that he'd finally gotten the words out, but slightly embarrassed all the same._

 _"That wasn't so hard was it," Lia smirked at him. "A deadly yet beautiful rose? Why Draco, I think I've discovered your new calling as a poet!"_

 _Draco's mouth opened in disbelief, his expression darkened, and with a shove, he pushed Lia with one hand. As she staggered, her body slipping towards the Great Lake, her laughing face stared up at him. He couldn't understand why she was still so happy, until her fingers whipped out and fastened tightly onto his wrist._

 _She pulled him down with her._

 _They fall with a splash into the lake, Lia resurfacing with a laugh. She looked around, expecting Draco to be there smirking with her … But he was already stalking out, his muscled arms pulling him out of the water, the broad shoulders tense beneath his suit._

* * *

A/N: Do you like it? I've always loved fanfiction Dracos.

Anyway, just finally, I've been wondering if Lia needs a new name. Daliah Agorios seems a bit weird doesn't it? And I feel as if Lia just doesn't suit her brazen and sarcastic personality!

Do you think it would be better if I called her either:

Valerie (nicknamed Val)

Verity (not sure about a nickname)

Amelia (maybe nicknamed Lia again?)

Or something else? And I am completely stuck with the last names. Like, what even is 'Agorios' am I right? How did I even come up with that? If you have any suggestions pleaseeee let me know. I'm legit awful with names :/ And I'll give credit too!

Okay so finally, I'd just like to thank everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed so much. This is the first fanfiction I've written since I was like twelve (God the ones I wrote in my twelvie days were _repulsive_ ), so your kind comments really mean so much to be!

And if there are any spelling or grammar or any other mistakes, don't hesitate to tell me. I've been re-editing all of the chapters I've written so far, and I've picked up on quite a few. I feel like there's still a few hiding in there though.

Thank you all! And sorry this is so long xxxxxxx

\- Annie


	18. Potions, Cupcakes and Skydiving (Year 2)

The stars twinkled like scattered moondust in the sky. Lingering remnants of crimson and violet, faded into the darkness that engulfed the backdrop of Lia's lantern-lit room, as she stared down at the charmed piece of parchment she held in her hands.

A message was scrawled on the paper in hasty script:

"Meet me in front of the marble staircase. Near the dungeon. Urgent."

She moaned. The sun had set already, and she'd just wriggled into her pyjamas, ready to slip into her bed, with an enlightening book of charms and a smoking cup of hot chocolate, when she'd found that the page that lay by her bedside drawer was now decorated with Harry's messy handwriting.

She wore an oversized singlet, a bright yellow rubber duck printed smack bang in the middle, above the animal, the words 'Ducky Time' blared out in hot pink. In pair with her top, she was sporting her blue and orange pineapple shorts.

It was a rotten sight.

For a minute she contemplated changing, but her laziness overpowered her self-consciousness. Besides, at night, the corridor outside was practically deserted, the students all too scared that they'd be attacked.

Flinging a cloak-like robe around her shoulders, Lia slipped her feet into her shoes.

"Where are you going?" Tracey asked.

"Harry calls. Duty awaits. If anyone asks where I am, make it up okay? Tell them … uh just tell them we're doing some sort of Heir of Slytherin crap together!"

"Have fun." Davis turned around, her attention drifting back to composing a letter to her parents.

As Lia opened Slytherin common room's door, Flint asked her curiously, "Where are you off to?"

"Don't waste Salazar's Heir's time with stupid questions," Lia said snootily. "I have things to do. People to hurt." She walked briskly out of the common room, unaware that a certain blonde shadow dawdled after her.

As she approached the marble stairs, she squinted around, discovering that the room was completely empty, except for two large, round boys standing in the centre, with watchful eyes.

"Crabbe? Goyle?" Lia asked, scrunching up her face. "What are you two doing here? Where's your master?"

Goyle reached out an arm and pulled Lia closer, dropping his lips down to her ear, as if he were preparing to whisper out a secret.

Unfortunately, Lia took him to be planning to kiss her on the temple.

"Crap!" she yelled. "Bloody hell, let go of me, fatass. I know you don't get many girls but I didn't think you were this despera-"

"Shut up," he hissed. "I'm H-"

But Lia didn't get to hear what he was. She hoped it wasn't horny. Ron's brother, Percy, was walking towards them in a poised manner. Goyle immediately closed his mouth. He let go of Lia's arm.

"What are you doing down here?" Crabbe asked, in a voice that sounded weird to her. Lia realised that it was because it lacked its usual encompassing tone of stupidity.

"That's none of your business," Percy said in a stiff tone. "Crabbe is it?"

"Wha – oh, yeah."

Well, there was the Crabbe she knew and did not love again. He was dumb enough to forget his own name. Lia still narrowed her eyes. Something told her that they were both acting suspicious and unlike themselves.

"Well," Percy said. "Get off to your dormitory now. It isn't safe in the corridors at this time of night."

"Don't stress, Perce," Lia said. For the sake of the lie she'd told Slytherin house, she needed to keep up appearances in front of Crabbe and Goyle. "I don't think _I_ need to worry about being attacked."

She sent an evil grin at the two Slytherins, expecting them to smirk back at her. They didn't return her gesture though. Instead both looked exceedingly confused. Which made Lia confused as well. Those two were being … strange again.

Percy straightened up, and pulled at his robes, so that the badge hanging off it gleamed in the light. He looked insulted. "I am a prefect. I have permission to patrol corridors at night."

Malfoy then appeared out of nowhere. "Crabbe. Goyle. There you are," he droned. "What were you two doing? Pigging out in the Great Hall?"

He spotted Percy and sneered, "And what are you doing here, Weasley?

This of course, enraged the bigheaded Percy. "You should show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he barked out. "I don't like your attitude!"

"I don't think you'll find a person alive who likes Malfoy's attitude," said Lia. "Sorry about him. His mother dropped him on the head a lot when he was a baby."

Percy gave Malfoy one last scalding look and stalked off.

"Let's go," Malfoy said, motioning for them to follow. "Move, Lia. Don't just stand there like a halfwit."

"I'm waiting for Harry." The words slipped out of Lia's mouth before she realised that it would sound suspicious to Malfoy.

"Harry? Why?"

Lia thought fast. "Um … We're planning our next attack."

Malfoy jeered. "Yeah right, you are. You might've convinced the rest of the house, but I don't believe for one second that you two are what you claim to be. What are you really doing here, Agorios?"

"The question is, what are _you_ doing, Malfoy? You were about to go up to bed, last I saw. Did you follow me here?" she was frustrated.

"No," said Malfoy, but he averted his eyes.

"Liar. So you're still obsessed then? Still want to date me?"

"Date you?" Goyle burst out.

"What attack?" asked Crabbe.

Lia looked at them oddly. "Did someone sneak an amnesia potion into your cupcakes? Or did you finally lose your marbles?" The two boys gulped. "Don't you remember?" When they didn't reply, she kept speaking.

"I swear you two need to buy yourselves a Pensieve then. How can anyone's memory be that bad? It was only a few weeks ago, when lovely Malfoy here decided to grace me with the fact that I was finally worthy of his fancy. I declined of course. I'm not really into chickens myself, thank you very much."

Malfoy scowled. "It wasn't like that! I told you, it was logic, not emotion. I'm not obsessed! And you're an idiot for declining. You won't get that sort of compliment again from anyone. More to the point though, I just wanted to talk to you. Privately."

"About what?"

"About how you're not the Heir of Slytherin."

Lia looked in alarm at Crabbe and Goyle, who were both looking shocked. At least that was how she expected they would react. "I thought you said privately? What … So you've changed your mind about me and the Chamber of Secrets? Does this mind work any better?"

"I didn't change my mind, because I never believed it was you who unleashed that monster. I just pretended to. Didn't want to blow your cover. And you don't need to worry about Crabbe and Goyle - they already know and they won't say anything. I just want to know why you're lying. What you're hiding."

"I'm not hidi –" She stopped mid-sentence and gaped at Goyle. "Are you … Are you wearing glasses Goyle?"

He scrambled a hand at his face, his hand latching up, and touching the glasses. "I was reading."

"Reading?" Lia wrinkled her nose. "I didn't know you could read!"

Goyle swallowed nervously. Lia took a step forward, so that she could examine him closely. "I suppose those are nice glasses though," she said. "Here pass them over. I want a look." He shoved him into his robe pockets, but not before Lia was able to scrutinize the spectacles.

She realised why she'd liked them so much. Of course she would, considering that she had picked them out herself!

But then … that had to mean that this was …

Goyle gave her a small, barely identifiable nod. Her brother's eyes said wordlessly to her, "You're in trouble."

Lia sent him a silent stare back as well, hoping that it communicated, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Lia?" Malfoy asked. "Why have you gone white? And why are looking at Goyle like that? You look like you've just seen a dead body. Either that, or you're constipated."

She thought fast. "Stomach ache," she groaned out. "I ate one of those cupcakes that Crabbe and Goyle had before. I think the cream was off. Those two probably have tougher stomachs than me," she added as an afterthought.

"You ate something they gave you?" Malfoy looked incredulous. "Just last week Goyle picked his nose and ate the booger. I didn't think that you'd touch, let alone eat, anything they'd already laid their hands on. Ever."

Harry looked at his hand – Goyle's hand – as if he wanted to chop it off.

"It was a mistake," muttered Lia. "Lets just go to the common room, okay? Its cold." She paused. "Har … I mean Goyle, and Crabbe, are you coming?"

Goyle – well it was really Harry - nodded at her.

The underground room was empty when they arrived back, although the fire still flickered beneath the mantelpiece. Lia waited for 'Crabbe', 'Goyle' and Malfoy to seat themselves in empty chairs first. She flopped herself on one as well.

"What are you doing now?" Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. "You've never willingly sat with me before."

The real answer was because Lia knew that she'd have to obliviate Malfoy if anything went wrong and he realised who Goyle really was. But she couldn't very well tell him that. "Didn't you say you wanted to ask me questions?" she said simply.

Malfoy, who still looked skeptical, said, "Wait here, then. I'll go and show you two," he motioned to Crabbe and Goyle, "- something funny that my father's sent me."

It turned out to be a newspaper article talking about how Lucius thought that Mr. Weasley should be fired.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," Malfoy said scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."

Crabbe's face immediately flushed red with fury.

"So that must be Ron then," Lia thought. Where was Hermione? She suspected that it was her who had prepared the polyjuice potion. Harry and Ron weren't really up to it.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy, seeing the boy's expression.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted. "Ate the cupcakes, like Lia."

"You know what you should do then? Go and run up to the hospital wing, and give all those petrified Mudbloods a kick from me. It's a wonder the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet. I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place."

"You're wrong!" Harry suddenly shouted, and Lia did a mental face palm. There was her noble brother again.

Malfoy was scowling. He stood up. "Wrong? Wrong am I? You think there's someone worse than Dumbledore?"

"Well, isn't there?" said Lia, thinking quickly. "For you three at least. You're always droning on and on and on about how much you hate Harry Potter. Honestly, I wished you used the time that you spent complaining, and actually learned how to grow a brain. Maybe I'd be able to stand you then."

Malfoy shrugged off her words, he seemed vexed, now that she had mentioned Harry's name. "Saint Potter, the Mudblood's friend-"

"Don't you dare call her a Mudblood!" said Lia angrily.

"- He must have no dignity at all, or he wouldn't hang around with that mud …" He looked at Lia and frowned. "… vile Granger girl." He glared at Lia. "And people think that you're the Heir of Slytherin, and Potter's your second in charge or something."

Malfoy then said in a cross tone. "I wish I knew who it was. I could help them."

"You?" Lia snorted. "Help? Don't make me laugh. Malfoy, your hollow head is the reason why we have to put directions on shampoo."

He wasn't able to snap back at her, 'Goyle' had said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all …"

Ah. So that was it. Harry and Ron must have thought that Malfoy had something to do with the Chamber of Secrets. They couldn't possibly think that he was the heir, could they?

Lia didn't think that Malfoy was neither smart, or brave enough. And to try to kill people? His father, she could believe. But Malfoy? He just … he was prejudiced sure, but she'd noticed how he hadn't ended up calling Granger a 'Mudblood' the second time round … he'd been avoiding that word around her a lot lately. She didn't think he actually wanted the muggle-borns to die.

"You know I haven't!" Malfoy barked. "How many times do I need to tell you? Father did say this much though The Chamber hasn't been opened for fifty years. He wouldn't say who it was last time round, just that they got expelled and sent to Azkaban. But he did tell me this … the last time the Heir of Slytherin let out the monster? A mud … muggle-born was killed. It's only a matter of time before another one's killed this time. Personally, I hope it's Granger."

Maybe Lia was wrong then. But still, she wasn't convinced that Malfoy could murder anyone. It was coming from the same part of her, that same gut instinct, that had told her that Snape was innocent in her first year.

Ron's fists were clenching together. Lia knew that she had to act, before he gave it away and started hitting Malfoy.

"You know what I hope, Malfoy?" she said. "I hope that you're adopted, and that your mother didn't commit the foulest crime in wizarding history by messing up her birth-control spell. You'd be next then. Even the Heir of Slytherin can't be able to bare your aggravating face."

"Ho!" Ron said suddenly.

Lia looked at him and saw in horror that his hair had the faintest trace of red, and that Harry's scar was starting to resurface. She leapt up and tried to shield them from Malfoy's view.

"Need to get medicine," Ron grunted, "for my stomach". Harry and Ron sprinted away.

"Was it just me," Malfoy said slowly. "Or were those two acting very strange?"

"I didn't see anything strange," Lia said quickly. She winced, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "Malfoy! Let's have another lesson now."

Malfoy's calculating expression dissolved into aloofness. "No."

"C'mon … How good was last time?"

"I still feel dizzy thinking about it." He was indeed looking a bit green at the mere memory of when Lia had used a spell to pass on a fully-immersive, memory like vision of riding on a racecar to Malfoy.

"Oh, come off it. I know you liked that car. Even if you kept screaming when it accelerated. God, I wish the Dursleys would take me someday."

"What?" smirked Malfoy. "Are you thinking of becoming a racecar driver?"

"No, an auror actually," Lia said, lost in thought. "What should we do tonight? I was -"

"Lia," Malfoy interrupted her, taking in her outfit. The fire had been so warm that Lia had slid off her cloak, revealing the pyjamas underneath. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"Didn't you know?" Lia said with sarcasm, trying to shove down her humiliation. "It's the latest fashion from Chanel."

"Cha-what?"

"Don't worry, muggle brand. Anyway, that reminds me. What are we doing? I'm thinking either skydiving –"

"Skydiving? What's that? … How can the sky dive at you? Sounds painful."

"It sounds quite fun actually. It's this muggle thing you do. You sort of. Urgh? I guess you jump out of a plane?"

"Why would people willingly kill themselves?"

"No! Not like that. You have a parachute, so it slows you down. It's like … if we leapt out of the tip of the North Tower, but someone used 'Aresto Momentum' for us."

"It sounds pointless."

"It's exhilarating! For one moment, you just feel free you know? Boundless. Like you're actually flying."

"Have you tried before?" Malfoy rolled his eyes at her.

"No, but –"

"Then, how do you know it's exhilarating?"

"I just do, alright? A girl at school was talking about when she went with her older sister once, and she made it sound like the best thing ever. I've always wanted to go but …" She cleared her throat. "Alright we'll go with something else."

"How do you feel about zip lining? Or surfing? Oooh. A rollercoaster would be run!"

Malfoy groaned and buried his face in a pillow.


	19. Chamber of Secrets (Year 2)

Lia stepped into the girls' lavatories on the first floor, her gaze raked around at the ivory coloured sinks that were arranged in circular formation around a broad, towering column. Her eyes latched themselves onto a particular tap - engraved on one side of the copper paint, was a small, inconspicuous snake.

Harry stood a few metres to her right, turning his eyes away from her. Lia knew that he was still annoyed from what he'd heard when he and Ron had taken the polyjuice potion.

"What was Malfoy talking about?" Ron had rasped, when he and Harry had finally managed to find her the next day. Lia had been trying to delay the inevitable explosion by avoiding them.

"Um," said Lia, fibbing. "… I don't know what he was saying?"

"Don't lie! You said … you said he asked you to date him!" Harry spat out.

"Yes … uh … that might have happened."

"Why didn't you tell me!"

"I didn't think you needed to know," Lia grumbled. "And … I didn't think you would take it very well. I wasn't wrong."

"Of course I'm not taking it well! A slimy git asked out my sister!"

"I didn't say yes to him," Lia said, rolling her eyes. "Malfoy's just an idiot. You should have heard how unromantic he was. And you don't need to worry about me, I can tell who's worth my attention, and who's not."

"So you don't like him then? Are you sure? I've noticed you getting awfully chummy with him these past few weeks!"

"Gross. No," said Lia, shuddering. "And the only reason I even talk to that boy at all is because I'm trying to change his mind about all his prejudices and stuff. I'm not sure if it's working. And I know the sort of person he is anyway."

"You promise me that you don't fancy Malfoy?"

"Yes Harry, I promise I don't. The day I like Malfoy, is the day that the sky falls down."

"What about that Heir of Slytherin business?" said Ron.

"Well, you know I sort of told my house that I was Salazar's heir … Don't give me that look, it's not like Harry's acting any different! I saw him walking down the hall the other day, and Fred and George were yelling, "Make way for the Heir! Seriously dark wizard coming through.""

"That was just a joke," said Harry, cheeks red.

"Well obviously I was lying to my house too. It's been quite useful too. The other day Flint bought me breakfast in bed. And it's only because Zabini told me that he'd seen lots of spiders scurrying into the woods, and asked if it was because they were scared of my monster, that we even thought of going into the Forbidden Forest."

Harry and Ron had not looked pacified, but luckily the bell had rung out, and they were forced to walk away to class. "This isn't over. We're talking again, later," Harry had whispered as she'd sat down.

Presently, the three of them were in Myrtle's bathroom, searching for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"This one," she said, motioning for Harry and Ron to come over. Lockhart stood rigid behind them, a look of dread plastered on his face. Lia pushed her hand on it, turning anti-clockwise, but found that no matter how much force she applied, the tap would not budge.

"That tap's never worked," Myrtle said brightly, as she watched Lia struggle.

"Harry, Lia," said Ron. "Say something in Parseltongue."

"Open up," said Harry. Lia looked over at Ron for confirmation.

He shook his head. "Still English."

"Open up," said Lia. Ron shook his head.

"Open," she said again. Nothing happened.

"Open. Open sesame. Unbolt. Unfasten." She growled. "Open up!" She was getting frustrated now, and swore.

"Come on. You've got to be kidding me. Stupid brain. You just randomly start speaking Parseltongue one day, and now you just bail on me? When I need it the most! Open! … You've got to be freaking joking. I swear to god, I'm going to grab a drill and bore a hole down in the floor, if you don't bloody start workin-"

Sometime during her rant, her words must have swapped into the hissing of Parseltongue, for the tap began to radiate out a blindingly white light. The entire sink moved, falling down, as if it were sinking into quicksand, and it left behind a large pipe, the hole big enough to fit one person at a time.

"Finally."

"I'm going down there," Harry said.

"Me too," said Ron.

"Me three," said Lia.

"Well, you hardly look like you'd need me," said Lockhart the Coward. "I'll just –" He put his hand on the door, preparing to exit the lavatory, but all three of them pointed their wands at the professor.

"You can go first," Lia snarled. "You're the least valuable out of all of us. A fiend _and_ a weakling."

"Boys," Lockhart said, his body trembling. "And girl. What good would it do?"

Harry walked over and stabbed Gilderoy in the back with his wand. He reluctantly hobbled back and sat on the edge of the pipe.

"I really don't think -"

No one heard what he thought though. Lia pushed him in before he could finish, and followed directly after - Harry, and Ron not far behind her.

Sliding down the tunnel was sort of like going down a ride at a water park. The slime that encrusted the pipe eased the friction, slightly dampening Lia's robes. She wrinkled her nose. As she kept falling and falling, Lia wondered how deep she had gone. They were certainly past the Slytherin common room now.

The room they collapsed in when they finally reached solid ground, was dark, even despite the small light that flickered out from Lia's wand. They moved onwards, trying not to wince as they trampled over the bones scattered around the passageways. They came in front of an oversized, emerald snake skin. It was enormous, and had to be at least fifteen metres long.

"Blimey," Ron said, just as Lockhart's knees gave way, and he half-sunk to the ground.

"Get up," Ron barked, and pointed his wand at Lockhart.

Lia watched in horror as Lockhart sprang up to his feet, and, before any of them could react, dived at Ron, knocked him to the ground, and pulled Ron's wand from his grasp.

"The adventure ends here!" he said. "I shall take a bit of this skin back up to the school, tell them I was too late to save the girl, and that you three tragically lost your minds at the sight of her mangled body - say good-bye to your memories!"

He raised Ron's badly taped wand up over his head, and yelled, "Obliviate!"

An explosion came out of it, as if Lockhart had cried, 'Confringo', instead. She threw up her hands over her head, pulling on Harry's arm, almost slipping on the strands of snake skin. A large stone plummeted towards her head, and she narrowly missed it by yelling, "Protego!"

The next thing she knew, she and Harry were standing in the middle of a pile of shattered rocks, a solid wall of fractured stone separating them from Ron and Lockhart.

"Ron!" Harry shouted.

"Are you okay?" asked Lia, wide eyed.

"I'm here." Ron's voice was stifled from the wall that segregated them. "I'm okay … not sure about the git though … he got blasted by the wand … it must have backfired."

She heard Lockhart's voice ask, "And, uh, wh-who am I?" There was a thud. Ron must have knocked him on the head.

"What now?" he said. "I can't get through. It'll take ages."

Lia thought of Ginny, sweet-eyed Ginny, Ginny who they still might be able to save. "Wait here alright?" she said. "If Harry and I aren't back in an hour … fetch McGonagall."

"I'll try and shift some of the rock," Ron sounded like he was desperately trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "So you two can," his voice broke. "Can get back through. And … be careful."

"See you in a bit," said Harry. His face was pale.

As they moved through the gloomy corridors, they arrived at a row of serpentine columns. She caught sight of a petite figure in black robes, with fiery red hair.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled, rushing forward. "Ginny, don't be dead, please don't be dead." He shook the girl. "Ginny, please wake up."

"She won't wake," a soft voice said. A tall boy with dark hair walked over.

Lia stared at him. There was something about his face, something memorable about it, something that she recognised, something about that figure that reminded her of something. Just as a thought brushed at her mind, Harry's voice rang out, and the thought fluttered away.

"Tom … Tom Riddle?"

Riddle nodded, his eyes piercing as he watched Harry. So this was Tom then, the boy from Harry's diary. But if the Chamber had been opened in Riddle's fifth year, which had been fifty years ago, then how, how did still look as if he wasn't a day over sixteen? He should have been at least fifty-five by now.

"Harry," she said slowly, alarms bells ringing in her head. "Harry … something's wrong."

But her brother appeared not to have heard her. Riddle's eyes however, swept to Lia's face, and curled up into a savage smile. He looked cruelly delighted that she was here too.

"What do you mean, she won't wake?" Harry's voice was desperate. "She's not – she can't be?"

"She's alive. Only just," said Riddle.

"Are you a ghost?" Lia asked. The nauseous sensation in her gut screamed at her.

"A memory," he said, his eyes were still searching her face with spine-chilling thrill. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."

"You've got to help us, Tom," Harry said, he was raising Ginny's head again. "We've got to get her out of here. There's a basilisk ... I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment ... Please, help us."

Lia watched in alarm as Harry looked around, frantic, for his wand. Riddle twirled it in his fingers.

"Thanks," Harry stretched out his hand, expecting Riddle to place it in his waiting palms. The boy only stared at him, spinning and spinning the wand. Lia waited, and seeing the malice still shining from Tom's eyes, hastily drew out her own wand from her pocket.

"Listen," said Harry urgently. He was trying to pick Ginny up, but he was scrawny, and he sagged under the girl's weight. "We've got to go! If the basilisk comes -"

"It won't come until it is called," Riddle said. His voice was calm.

Harry lowered Ginny back onto the floor, unable to hold her up any longer.

"What d'you mean?" he said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it -"

Riddle's smile grew ever wider.

"You won't be needing it," he said.

That was all the evidence Lia needed. She pointed her wand at Riddle, about to send a stunning spell at him. But he was quicker.

"Expelliarmus." The wand flew out her grasp. Riddle's malicious gaze was on her once more.

"Daliah Agorios –"

"How do you know my name?" Lia cut in.

"I knew your mother." The boy continued then, as if she hadn't spoken. "- And Harry Potter. I've waited a very long time for this. For the chance to see you two. To speak to you both."

"How did Ginny end up like this?" Lia demanded angrily. "And give me back my wand before I make you pay for disarming me!"

"Well isn't that an interesting question?" Riddle's eyes were stormy as he explained how the youngest Weasley had poured out her heart and soul to him, and in the process, lost herself. So it was Ginny – no, not Ginny, but Tom, Tom possessing her – who was responsible for the attacks.

Riddle talked – about how he had gained Ginny's trust, about how the girl had grown suspicious, about how the diary had found its way into Harry's house, about how he had framed Hagrid all those years ago, about how Dumbledore had grown suspicious of him, about how he realised he would not be able to open the Chamber whilst studying at Hogwarts, about how he left behind a diary, about how he would finish Salazar's 'noble' work, about how Ginny had written about Harry and written about Lia, about how his attention had now shifted towards the two of them.

"I have questions for you, Harry Potter," Riddle said.

"Like what?" Harry eyes were livid, his fists clenched.

"Well," said Riddle, smiling without mirth, "how is it that you a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent - managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

Lia saw a red gleam in his eyes. A gleam that she had seen once, a gleam that had stared at her out of a face poking from the back of a man's head.

"Run," her brain screeched at her. "Run." But Lia would not leave Harry. And something was cementing the two of them there. Although both were irate with anger, they were bewitched, transfixed by Riddle's words, drawn with a dread and desire to solve the mystery that had escaped them for so long.

"Why do you care how I escaped?" Harry asked. "Voldemort was after your time…"

Riddle's cruel smile was back. "Voldemort," he said, his voice a murmur, "is my past, present, and future."

He pulled out Lia's wand, and three shimmering words appeared, in what looked like thin fibers of fiery flame:

"TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE"

Which, with a flick of Riddle's wand, rearranged themselves, so that the words now made up:

"I AM LORD VOLDEMORT"

Riddle proceeded to insult Dumbledore, and Harry replied with a snappy retort about how Dumbledore, not Tom, was the greatest wizard in the world.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" Riddle spat out, shaking with anger.

"He's not as gone as you think!" Harry yelled.

It was at that exact moment, that eerie music began to ring out of the Chamber, growing louder. Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, landed on Harry's shoulder, dropping the tattered sorting hat onto Harry's feet.

Riddle let out a high, cold laugh, which both infuriated Lia, and sent chills flooding down her body.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defenders! A songbird and an old hat!"

Lia noticed how as time passed, Ginny was growing even paler, and Riddle's outline even clear. He was sucking the life force out of the girl. They needed to hurry.

"You should know," Lia snapped, "that in the future you become a filthy disgusting half-human, with a face straight out of a horror movie. You're forced to resort to sharing a body with a quivering, ugly man, and you drink vile unicorn blood to survive.

"And you know why? Why you became so pathetic, so weak? Because of Harry. Because of Harry's mother. His own muggle-born mother was able to beat you. You. Tell me, how does it feel to be overpowered by a 'mudblood'?

"And last year? Harry and I beat you. Again. And you know what? We've both beaten you once before. I'm sure we can do it twice."

Riddle laughed. "You must be a brave girl to speak to me like that." He looked at the scar on Lia's arm. "I gave you that mark, didn't I? I sense my magic in you."

Lia glared. "You cursed me. And you killed my mother. You'll pay."

He chuckled once more. "You may be brave, but stupid too, and your mother was stupid as well, stupid if she dared to betray me. I suspect that you're the product of a mistake. You have no idea of what your true heritage is? But, no matter, no matter, I left my mark, and now, you are a weapon, a weapon for me to wield."

"What heritage? And what weapon?" she scoffed. "As if you can ever control me. I'll never grovel before the likes of you."

"Do not make promise too quickly." He smiled sinisterly. "And as for your ancestry, I think you will know in time. When Voldemort rises again, you will be the warrior by his side. Now. I think I'm going to teach Harry here a little lesson. Let us match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him …"

Riddle spoke, in a hissing voice, to the statue of Salazar, to the stone face that was resting above the high pillars of the room. The face moved, as if something slithered out of its depths, something green, long and scaly.

Lia knew that she should have trembled in fear at the basilisk that was gliding out of the depths of the statue's mouth, but a calmness was taking hold of her. A voice was whispering in her mind, caressing her thoughts with a gentle mind, a soft breeze of wind that billowed against her mental walls, slipping around for a way through. Lia sighed, it was just so comforting, so soft, so serene, that she gave in to the pleasure.

Instantly, a dark grip tightened around her mind. She tried to shake her head, to shake away the sickness, but she found that she could not move. She was rooted, like a frozen effigy.

 _Close your eyes._

Her eyes snapped shut. Somewhere in the back of her head, she heard a hiss say, "Kill him." And she could have sworn a body slide towards Harry. Harry! She panicked and her hand twitched by her side.

 _Calm down. Everything is all right._

Lia's body became paralyzed again. Harry yelled, "Lia! Get out of the way! The basilisk! It's coming." A hand tugged at her arm. But she didn't care. She was calm. And everything was fine.

 _Good girl. Now just –_

The voice whispering at her mind stopped. Lia's eyes flew open again and she looked around. Fawkes was soaring at the basilisk, diving at it, raking its claws into the serpent's eyes, so that they now streamed with blood, the snake hissing in pain.

"NO!" Riddle screamed. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM. KILL HIMI"

"Harry!" Lia yelled, while Riddle was distracted to some extent. "Harry! You have to get out of here. Riddle's possessing me. I – I can't trust myself –"

 _Close your mouth. Walk forward and –_

The voice trailed off again, as Riddle saw that the snake was still launching it's spitting head at the phoenix, in a furious attempt to crush its jaws.

"KILL THE BOY! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE BOY IS BEHIND YOU. SNIFF … SMELL HIM."

The basilisk lunged at Harry, the aim off due to its newfound blindness. Harry scarcely dodged it, banging into the wall of the Chamber. It pounced again, the jaws almost over Harry's head, this time, dropping down, to bite him.

"Stop!" she yelled. Her words were the hiss of Parseltongue. To her surprise the basilisk obeyed her, pausing midway. It appeared to be wrestling with itself, not knowing whether to listen to her command, or to Riddle's.

"Leave," Lia said. Her eyes widened in wonder, as the great serpent shrunk back, and seemed to be turning its body, reluctantly moving to slither back into the hole it came from.

All of a sudden there was a shooting pain in her head.

" _Attack the boy_." The words that came out of Lia's mouth were not her own. Her tongue moving of its own accord.

The snake hissed in anger and launched itself forward again. This time, it dug a fang into Harry's arm.

Simultaneously, Harry held the sword in his two hands – Lia had no idea where he had managed to get it from - and drove the tip up, impaling the basilisk in a clean strike from it's jaw to the top of its head. Blood was bursting out of Harry's wound, soaking the black robes.

Lia screamed. She knew that basilisk venom was poisonous.

 _Nothing is happening. That boy is not your brother._

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's voice above him. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing? He's crying."

Indeed, tears were leaking out of the phoenix's eyes and dripping down onto Harry's shoulder, onto his arm. His eyes were growing clearer, his expression less pained.

"Get away, bird," said Riddle's voice suddenly. "Get away from him - I said, get away –

He shot a spell at Fawkes, who glided away into the air.

"Phoenix tears. - ." said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm, the skin was stitching itself back together again, the blood seemingly absorbing into his skin. "Of course ... healing powers ... I forgot. . ."

Tom shook his head, and raised Lia's wand. Thinking twice, a smirk came over his face, and he dropped his hand. "But of course, it does not make a difference. In fact, it will be more entertaining this way. Let's see Harry, whatever shall you do? When your own _sister_ ," he spat out the word, "turns against you."

 _Come here._

Lia walked over, her expression void of emotion.

"Lia, no!" Harry yelled, desperately. "Please, Lia. Don't you remember me? Don't you know who I am? I'm your brother."

Thoughts of hugs and laughs, and bandaids placed on her stinging cuts, of pats on the back as she cried, of a protective shoulder around her as boys taunted her ... thoughts of talks on cold winter nights, of sneaking out of Vernon's house to be pushed on a swing in the park – those thoughts rose in Lia's mind.

 _No! He is not your brother._

The thoughts cleared. Lia could not remember. She could not think. She could not feel. There was nothing expect for the voice whispering to her.

 _He is a murderer. He is responsible for your mothers' deaths._ Anger flared up in her. _He is a follower of Voldemort, sent here to kill Ginny, as she lies defenceless on the floor._ The voice paused. _Will you let him?_

Lia saw a memory of Ginny, Ginny with a naïve expression on her face, Ginny as she laughed, pure and innocent. Ginny who was only eleven.

Lia felt furious.

 _Good. Good. Now, attack him!_

She paused, something was screaming at her, telling her that the voice was wrong, that Harry wasn't a murderer, that she was being lied to, that –

Suddenly there was a blur in Lia's head, and now instead of seeing Harry, gazing in anguish at her, fear in his eyes … she saw a monster. He bore the same merciless red pupils as Voldemort himself. Before her very stare, Harry's face distorted until it became demonic and cruel. He leaned in front of Ginny, about to stab her with his sword.

 _Attack him._

Lia held up her hand. A rope of water hovered up out of the puddles that lay around the Chamber. Lia summoned the liquid towards her, so that they converged to make a basketball sized orb. Drawing her fingers back so that they were bent and clawed, she froze the water, shaping it into a long, spiked shard of solid ice.

 _Kill him._

She sent the fragment flying, whirling through the air like a dagger.

Straight towards Harry's heart.


	20. Riddles and Guilt (Year 2)

Harry's face was still frozen in shock.

He seemed too astonished to think of dodging out of the way, like a deer in headlights.

At the last moment, Fawkes squawked as he soared off the pillar that he had been standing on, flapping his crimson wings and shooting off after the shard.

By some miracle, his claws wrapped themselves around the frozen water. Propelled forward by the ice chip's momentum, the phoenix beat its wings ever harder as it tried to overcome the force of the moving fragment. He ascended up into the sky, eventually coming to a hover over their heads, the dripping dagger of ice still firmly in his grasp.

"That bird!" Riddle spat.

 _Shoot it down._

Lia raised her hand once more, summoning more water towards her, as Harry pleaded once more.

"Lia! Stop!"

She glanced at the demon. His eyes were wet, and a lonely tear dribbled down his cheek. Lia frowned, she had never known that devils could cry.

Her head pounded. There was an emotion pouring through her veins, burning her blood. She saw the monster's red eyes fade into vivid green, the charcoal gnarled skin waning into a mortal cream, a scar budding on its forehead. For a second, she thought that she recognised the face.

 _Ignore him._

"Lia, please! You said that you'd never grovel before the likes of Voldemort! You're stronger than this. Better than whatever he's done to you. I know you can fight it!"

Her hand shook. The voice was deafening now.

 _Kill him. Kill him! KILL HIM!_

"I don't want to." The faint thought escaped from Riddle's clutch on her mind.

"I don't want to." Louder now.

"I DON'T WANT TO!"

Her brain was on fire. She saw fragments of past memories whip past her eyes. Flickers. The moment when she'd found out she was a wizard. That time she'd first rode a broomstick. The pride she'd felt when she'd thought of a particularly good insult for Malfoy. Her joy as she laughed with Davis after they'd pranked Pansy, watching her scream as she sprouted a third eye.

"Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. Head."

 _Relax. Breathe. It's all alrigh-"_

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do!"

The memories speedily shooting around her mind, grew darker, as Riddle sent a wave of misery towards her.

Helplessness, as she saw Hermione lie petrified in the hospital wing. Fear, as Piers screamed and called her a freak. Pain, as Quirrell tortured her with the cruciatus curse. Heartache, as Dumbledore told her that her father had been a death eater. Anger, as she silently berated her dead mother for falling in love with such evil. Jealousy, as Harry was patted on the back, everyone crowding around the Boy Who Lived. Distress, as she stared at Malfoy and found that she didn't hate him.

 _You see? There is much pain in the world. Better yet if you let go. If you gave in to me. I will make sure that nothing hurts you ever again._

Lia gave the unwelcome visitor one last shove.

"I welcome pain," she spat at it. "Without it, there is no happiness."

 _So be it._

Her head was splitting open, as if someone was hacking on it with a blunt axe, again and again and again. She could feel blood drip down her nose, as she screamed. But she didn't stop pushing against the mental obtrusion.

At last the agony stopped, and Lia found that when she opened her eyes, her vision was sharp.

Riddle stood in a corner clutching at his head, his face scrunched, and a red blemish on his perfect skin. She must have burnt him. Harry was by her side, his arms around her. She could see the scratches that she'd made when she'd thrashed and beat at his clasp. Her right shoulder was wet from Harry's tears. His left shoulder damp from hers.

"I'm alright," said Lia, her voice hoarse. "You can let go of me now." She tried to force a smile, but fell short. "Ginny," she said.

Abruptly, Fawkes soared towards them, dropping something in Lia's lap. She saw that it was the heinous diary.

Riddle lifted his head up from his hands, and caught sight of what she held in her grips. He lurched forwards, making a move to grab it. The prickling was back in Lia's head.

 _Give me the book, or –_

Riddle let out a cry of pain. Lia had been arming herself against him, and she'd imagined a column of red-hot fire against the wall in her mind. When the voice had come again, she'd flung flames at it, defending herself from its ownership.

He raised his wand, pointing at her, before shifting the direction of the tip towards Harry. "Cruci-"

Lia didn't stop to think. Harry threw the basilisk fang that lay to the right of him into Lia's hands. With one strike, she plunged the venom-ridden tooth into the heart of the diary.

There was long, harrowing scream as Riddle collapsed to his knees. Parallel with the way the ink erupted from the diary in torrents of liquid, staining the floor black, Riddle was fading, broken with holes that mounted each time that Lia raised the fang and pierced the pages, over and over again.

The shrieks went on, until finally, the last that remained of Riddle punctured Lia with its stare.

"This isn't over yet," he hissed. "Voldemort will come for his traitor of a da-"

Lia gave one last stab. Tom dissolved into nothingness, crumbling away, the diary merely a tattered scrap of ruined pages and inky splatters.

She stared at the spot where Riddle had stood. What he been about to say? In anger, confusion and relief, she flung the fang at the statue of Slytherin. It clattered against the cold stone, before thudding to the ground.

Meanwhile, Ginny stirred. Harry and Lia hurried over to her. The young girl was sitting up, her eyes large spheres as she took in the dead basilisk, Harry's blood-soaked robes, and the derelict diary that Lia held in her hands.

Tears poured down her eyes.

"Harry - oh, Lia - I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy - it was me - but I - I s-swear I d- didn't mean to - R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - how did you kill that - that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r- remember is him coming out of the diary -"

"It's alright," Lia said. "He …" she swallowed. "He made me do things too. No one blames you Ginny. Riddle was as evil as he was powerful. But he's finished now. Look! It's alright. He and the basilisk are dead. Come on, let's get out of here."

The waterworks kept coming from Ginny's eyes, as Harry clumsily helped her to his feet. "I'm going to be expelled!" she wept. "I've wanted to come to Hogwarts e-ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to l-leave, and … w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"

Lia pitied the girl.

She knew now, how … how _awful_ it was to be possessed by one as dark as Riddle. She could still remember the snake-like voice in her thoughts as it shoved down her own free-will, filling her with its menace, drawing out the deepest pains and fears that she had. She swallowed. She had almost killed her own brother.

Harry looked at the torment and guilt in Lia's face, and gave her a worried look. She rearranged her expression and reached out her arms towards Ginny.

"It'll be alright Gin," she said. "Listen I'll bet my life that Dumbledore will never expel you. If he did, he'd have to expel me too. I nearly … nearly did something horrible. So listen, okay? Even if we're both kicked out, which we won't be be, we can just, I don't know, go and start our own school or something. So don't worry, yeah? If we were thrown out? Hogwarts would be missing two mother-freaking badarse witches!"

Ginny gave a small snort of laughter and flung herself into Lia's arms.

She had been planning to just pat the red-headed girl on the shoulder, but with Ginny snuggled against her, she felt her tension loosen up and she let out a breath that she'd felt like she'd held for a lifetime. Awkwardly, she patted her on the head.

"Let's go," Lia said, after a pause. "Heaven knows, I want to get out of this place as soon as possible."

The three of them stepped out and moved through the tunnels, meeting Ron as they passed into the gap that he'd managed to make in the broken stone wall.

"Ginny!" Ron cheered, his entire body relaxing as he caught sight of his sister. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?"

It wasn't long before the six found themselves in Professor McGonagall's office, seated in cosy chairs, as Mr and Mrs. Weasley threw themselves at Ginny, crying with relief.

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?" Mrs. Weasley embraced Lia, Harry and Ron.

"I think we'd all like to know that," McGonagall looked faint.

Lia bit her mouth and looked away.

She didn't feel up to recollecting what had happened yet. She didn't want to see the unavoidable disgust in their eyes when they realised that Harry would be dead, had Fawkes not intervened.

Harry hesitated, then seeing the remorse in Lia's eyes, placed the sword onto the table. Lia got up and placed Riddle's diary next to it, glaring at the ragged pages.

It took her brother almost half an hour to explain everything about how he'd heard the strange voices coming out of nowhere; how Hermione had found out that the voice was really the basilisk in the pipes; how he, Ron and Lia had followed the spiders into the Forbidden Forest; how Aragog had told them that the last victim of the basilisk had died; how Lia had guessed that it was Myrtle who was the victim; how they'd found that the entrance to the Chamber was in the bathroom; how they'd been separated from Ron when the rock ceiling had crumbled into a stone barrier.

McGonagall had cut him off there. "Very well, so you found the entrance – whilst breaking about a hundred school rules along the way, I might add – but how on earth did the two of you get out of there alive?"

It took another couple of minutes for Harry to explain about how he and Lia had been tricked by Riddle; how he'd disarmed them; how he'd set the basilisk loose and it had chased him; how Fawkes had luckily arrived and been able to blind the snake's eyes; how Riddle had tried to possess Lia, but ultimately had failed.

Lia scoffed at that. Her brother had left out the bit where she'd almost stabbed him in the heart.

Harry looked at her troubled, as if he wanted to say something reassuring, but kept narrating the events that had happened:

Lia had pushed Riddle out of his mind, and whilst he was distracted, Fawkes had flown out and thrown Riddle's diary into Lia's lap. Harry had then thrown her the fang, and Lia had skewered it, destroying Riddle as well in the process. They'd then gone to help Ginny and together they'd left the Chamber.

"What interests me most," Dumbledore said gently when Harry finished, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny and Lia, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."

Harry showed him the diary.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "There are few who know that Lord Voldemort was once named Tom Riddle. I, myself, taught him fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after he graduated … travelled far and wide … sank so deeply into the Dark Arts that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was hardly recognisable. Very few connected him with the clever, handsome boy who'd been Head Boy here."

Dumbledore sent Ginny to the hospital wing, thankfully giving her no punishment. The room soon deserted until it was only Lia, Harry and Ron who sat on the chairs, facing the headmaster.

"I seem to remember telling you three that I would be forced to expel you if you broke any more school rules."

Lia stared, mouth open, at the professor. "But sir, Harry and Ron are innocent! Ron was outside the whole time, trying to move the rocks so we'd have a way through, and Harry basically defeated the basilisk. After all we've done are –"

"Please, Lia," Dumbledore said, "Allow me to continue … It just goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words. All three of you will receive Special Awards for Services to the School and - hmmm - I believe two hundred points each for Gryffindor and Slytherin sounds justified?"

Dumbledore then asked about Lockhart, who had kept silent through the entire hour. Upon finding out that the memory charm had backfired on him, he asked Ron to escort him to the infirmary.

"Lia," the headmaster said. "Wait outside for a moment too, please. I would like a private word with Harry, and then to you as well."

She nodded, looking at them curiously and strolled outside.

"Come in, Lia," said Dumbledore, after a while, her brother beside him smiling. "I suggest you go down to the feast Harry, while I talk to your sister."

"Please, have a seat," he said, and Lia dropped onto a chair. "Harry told me what had happened, how you were controlled by Riddle. He told me that you were foolish, so you were likely to believe it to be of your own wrongdoing."

"Of course he told you that," said Lia. "He just can't shut up his bloody mouth can he? I –"

"You do know that it was not your fault?"

Lia looked at her feet. "But it was, professor. It was. I let Voldemort into my head. I let him into my thoughts. I should have been able to repel him. To stop myself." Her voice trembled. "Harry nearly _died_ because of me."

"It is because of you that Harry is alive. You stopped that basilisk for a moment in the Chamber of Secrets, did you not? It would have otherwise torn his head off."

"But … that couldn't have been me. Why would Riddle's monster listen to what I said?"

"I suspect that when Voldemort cursed you Lia, he gave you a remnant of his own power. That coupled with your ability to speak Parseltongue, for your father was a Parselmouth himself, meant that you could govern over the serpent. Combine those two, and that made you the next heir."

"I couldn't really control that snake … wait," she trailed off, "…what did you just say?" She was gobsmacked. "Heir? You can't mean … So I'm actually the Heir of Slytherin? All this time … I told my house that I was … and it's true? What! How?"

"You are more powerful than you think, Lia."

She grunted. "Yeah right. If I'm so powerful, then why did Riddle possess me then? If I'm so powerful, why couldn't I stop myself?"

"But you did Lia. You stopped. And that made all the difference. It is rare to find a witch so young, who can throw off a possession or an 'imperio' curse. It is even rarer, for you to be able to mentally incapacitate Riddle like you did."

"Incapacitate him? I didn't do anything vaguely like that."

"You did, Lia. When Riddle clutched at his head, and was no longer able to penetrate your mind anymore, it was because you used your magic to pierce through, and subsequently burn him."

"It was only temporary."

"Yet extraordinary all the same. The fact that you were able to hurt him, shows that you were able to break through his mental defenses, Lia. And Lord Voldemort is a powerful occulmens."

"I still don't understand, sir .. How can I be the Heir of Slytherin? That doesn't make any sense."

She could have sworn that the headmaster looked uncomfortable then. "It will make sense in time," he said cryptically. He motioned for her to stand up. "I trust that you must be beside yourself with hunger, there is a feast waiting for you."

Lia stepped down the marble stairs, towards the Great Hall, still frowning, when she smacked into Lucius Malfoy's back.

"Watch where you're …!" he trailed off, catching sight of who it was. "Miss Agorios." He nodded at her stiffly.

Lia's eyes bulged in shock. Miss? _Miss_? Since when was Lucius ever polite towards her? She had expected him to scream and rage and threaten to sue her for physical abuse, the next time they'd met each other after Diagon Alley.

"I trust that you are well?" he continued, ignoring the fact that Lia was gaping at him. "Draco tells me that you have found yourself a new pet snake -"

"You are well? Pet snake?" said Lia. "Why are you speaking so … so civilly? Have you hit your head? What happened? Did Lockhart pull a memory charm on you too?"

He looked as if he were chewing on a particularly sour lemon. "I've realised that I've been too harsh on you. I trust that you will be able to forgive me, and that it will not harm your … relationship with my son."

"Pardon me? Relationship?" she scoffed. "What relationship? Malfoy's so ugly that when he looks in the mirror, his reflection looks away."

He narrowed his eyes, his face darkening. "You will have to excuse me for a moment. Please, enjoy the feast." He stalked off, leaving Lia still tongue-tied with amazement.

It seemed that everyone was losing their marbles lately. What had that been all about? She shook her head, too tired and drained for more investigating, and walked off to stuff her belly with as much mouth-watering food as she could.

Meanwhile, whilst Lia continued on her journey to the hall, Lucius Malfoy was tugging his son by the arm, shoving him into an abandoned classroom. His eyes were infuriated and he looked down at the squirming boy with dark displeasure.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a chair.

"What," Lucius growled out, "have you been doing?"

His voice rose into a shout. "I thought I told you to work on bonding with that Agorios girl!"

Malfoy swallowed. His eyes flickered around the room, as if her were contemplating ways to escape, in case Lucius lost it. "I … I … father I've been trying to! But it's just so hard! She hates me! And … and I don't what else I could possible do to change that."

"You'd better find a way to get close to her!" he snapped, angrily. "Do you want to be even more of a disappointment and a failure?"

His son winced. "Please, father. I asked her out! I tried … I tried."

Lucius grabbed Draco, and pulled him up roughly by the collar of his robe, his hands were white and his knuckles tight with barely controlled rage. "You. Better. Try. Harder," he spat out each word, spit flying into Draco's face.

The boy cast his eyes down. "I don't understand why I even have to do this!" he said bitterly, almost grumbling now. "Why is Agorios so important anyway?"

"There will come a time when the Dark Lord rises once more. And when that day comes, you will be thankful if you're close with that girl. She is more valuable to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than you can ever imagine. If you can convince her to our side, we will reap the rewards that the Dark Lord shall bestow upon us."

"Why?" Draco asked. "I didn't think the Dark Lord cared about anyone except for himself."

Lucius looked around in alarm, as if expecting Voldemort to leap out of the shadows and murder them. When nothing happened, he said dangerously, "Draco! You'll think twice next time before you say criticism like that. Do you not understand how perilous these circumstances are? Do you not understand how important it is to be in favour with the Dark Lord?"

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

Lucius disregarded his apology. "The girl, Draco. I cannot tell you yet why she's so precious to our master. Not when I'm not completely sure. But I suspect her blood is purer than any other. She would make a fine wife, bare worthy children." He paused. "Despite that temper of hers."

"What the fuck?" Draco spluttered. "Wife? Children? What! With Agorios?" He looked like he wanted to vomit, or simultaneously combust.

"Language!" Lucius snapped. "And you'll understand soon enough. If you can make Daliah like you. No … make her _love_ you. We'll be the most important servants of the Dark Lord. We'll have everything. Because if she loves you, then through you, Draco, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can control her."

"I still have no idea what you're saying. Are we both meant to be puppets or something?"

"Just heed my words." His father looked ready to shoot him from frustration. "I don't care what you have to do. Beg. Lie. Just make sure that Agorios falls for you."

"That's impossible. She won't. Ever. You'd have more luck trying to get her to fancy a toad."

"Well. Thank goodness, you're at least better than a toad, then! Draco. Let's see, I'm giving you until. I think … Fourth Year. That's two years already. I trust even an embarrassment like yourself, can achieve that?"

Draco shook his head. "It's impossible," he repeated again.

There was a loud smack. His father had hit him, bringing his hand flying hard against his cheek.

"Then make it possible," Lucius hissed, as he slammed the door and strode furiously out of the room.


	21. Dementors on the Train (Year 3)

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lia's compartment on the Hogwarts Express was empty, apart from the sleeping wizard with chestnut brown hair and old, scruffy robes. Lia could tell that he was relatively young for a professor, perhaps no older than the mid-thirties, however, the ill, grey tinge of his skin, and the dark bags beneath his eyes, caused him to appear aged.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," Lia said.

"How'd you know that?"

"I'm physic," she stopped at the look on Ron's face. "No. Not actually," she said sighing, shaking her head. "Ron be careful not to let your mind wander, it's a wee bit too small to be out there by itself."

"How did you know?" Harry asked.

"It's obvious isn't it?" said Hermione. "It's on his case." She pointed to the stamped, peeling name on the corner of Lupin's suitcase.

"I wonder what he teaches?" said Lia.

"Well, there's only one vacancy, isn't there?" Hermione said. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Isn't that job jinxed?" said Lia, looking at Lupin with doubt. "I'm not sure if he's up to it. He looks like one of my hexes could just finish him off, let alone a curse."

"Ah," said Ron, suddenly changing the topic. "I can't wait for this year. How nice will it be to get out of school for a bit and go explore Hogsmeade?"

Lia winced. That was a bit of a touchy subject for Harry.

"Spect it'll be very nice," her brother said, gloomily. "You'll have to tell me when you've found out."

"What do you mean?"

"He can't go," Lia explained. "The Dursleys wouldn't sign his permission form, and he tried to ask Fudge, but he said no as well."

"What about you, then?"

She smirked. "Dudley thinks that I saved his life from being eaten by a Crup once. So he felt that he owed me, and managed to persuade Petunia to sign the damn thing for me. Before Harry blew Marge up though, that is. Pretty decent of my cousin right?"

"Isn't a Crup one of those tiny dog things?" said Ron, raising an eyebrow.

Lia's smile widened. "Dudley didn't know that."

The sliding door of their compartment was pulled open with a bang. Malfoy strode in, with Crabbe and Goyle nipping at his heels.

"Well, look who it is," Malfoy said. "Potty and the Weasel."

"And what is this?" Lia retorted. "Wow. Cruella De Vil. And Horace and Jasper."

Harry and Hermione snickered, as Ron asked "Who?"

"Nice to see you, Agorios," Malfoy said. "You look … good." He was grimacing as he said the words.

Lia stared at him. There was a pregnant pause.

"How was St. Mungos?" she asked finally. "I gather you and your father both went there to treat your brain injuries?"

"I mean it. I like your … hair."

"No you don't," said Lia, snorting. "I haven't brushed it all morning. There's got to be about a thousand mats by now." She looked at him with suspicion. "Did someone dare you to say that to me? Cause, if they did, I'll pay you more money to fuck off."

"Look here," Malfoy said. "I'm trying to be … nice." He saw Harry, Ron and Hermione look at him with incredulity.

"Alright. Ago … Lia, can we talk … outside? In private?"

"No. I'm not really looking to get my eyebrows jinxed into oblivion, thanks."

"I'm not … just come." He swallowed, looking as if he was dreading something. "P-please." The way Malfoy said the word, made it sound as if he were choking.

She gawked at him again. "What the hell's gotten into you?"

"I'll lend you my book of hexes, if you just give me five minutes."

Lia's eyes widened. Malfoy was in love with that book. He'd said it was a family heirloom, an antique. He'd screamed at a first-year when he'd splashed the teeniest tiniest bit of coffee onto it, and almost made the trembling little kid cry.

Lia did really, really want to learn some more spells. "Fine," she grumbled. "But if you hex me, I'm telling Lupin," she said pointing at the sleeping professor.

"Who's Lupin?"

"New teacher."

She shut the compartment door on her way out.

"So? What do you want to say that's made you so desperate, Mopefoy?"

"Lia," the words flew out of Malfoy's mouth. "Why do you hate me so much? What have I done to make you despise me? Why can't we be … friends?"

"Friends? What? Since when did you want to be _friends_? And for your information, you're the one that hated me first!"

"No I haven't!" said Malfoy. "I've never hated you. I don't hate you."

"Yes you do! … You're always insulting me."

"Me! Insult you?" he scoffed. "Ever time, you're the one that's being rude first. I can't do anything, _but_ think up comebacks."

"How can you say that? You called Harry and Ron, 'Potter and the Weasel' just a minute ago? And they didn't do anything to you."

"Yes. But their names are Harry, and Ron, not Lia. You do realise that as close as you might be, you're still not the same person right?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, that I've always been alright to you, haven't I?"

"No."

"I have!"

"Never."

"Lia, Lia." He tsked. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn? Why can't we be civil? Why can't we be friends?"

"Malfoy, if I wanted someone like you for a friend, I'd just buy a dog. And we can't be civil because you hate my brother remember? And I'm pretty sure you hate me, whatever you might say."

"Do I have to keep repeating this forever? I don't hate you. I –"

Malfoy stopped, just as the train became stationary. With the sudden halt, Lia fell forward from inertia, pushing into Malfoy. They ended up sprawled on the floor, with Lia lying on top of him, her hand on his chest.

Malfoy smirked. "Oh, Lia. Always pinning me to the floor. Fiesty. I like it."

"Yes Malfoy. I need you … I want you … To get the hell out of my face."

"You're the one that pushed me. And besides, I can't get up until you do, you're bloody heavy."

"Calling me fat Malfoy?"

"No. Just heavy. Don't you say I'm touchy, when you act like this!"

Without any warning or explanation at all, the lights flickered, and went out, plunging the corridor into blackness.

"Ooh," said Malfoy. "Now we're both on the floor. In the dark." She could just tell that he was waggling his eyebrows at her. Lia punched him in the arm, preparing to stand up, when another figure tripped over her lag, and fell down sideways, landing on top of them.

"It's a real human pyramid now," said Malfoy, with sarcasm.

"Malfoy? And who's that? Lia?" it was Harry's voice. Lia groaned. "What the _hell_ are you two doing on the floor?"

She opened her mouth to tell Harry that she had just tripped, when more footsteps came thumping towards them.

"Hello? Is anyone there? D'you know what's going on?" came Neville Longbottom's voice.

He didn't seem to spot that the three of them had fallen on the ground, for as he moved forward, his foot caught on Harry's arm, and he tumbled down as well, falling over all three of them.

"Ouch!" yelled Malfoy, who was being crushed at the bottom of the stack. "Get off me!"

"Calm down," Lia said. "Everyone get up. No, not now Harry!" He was struggling to push himself up, Neville was collapsed above him. "In order. Neville first, and then you."

Eventually they all got up, and Lia dusted the powder off her robes.

"What's happening?" Neville asked. "What do we do now?"

"Let's just all go and sit calmly down in the compartment," Lia suggested.

Malfoy mumbled, "I'm not sitting anywhere with them."

"Suit yourself. We'll just leave you here in the dark to get attacked by a werewolf." She turned around to leave. As she entered the compartment, she heard a snake, her snake, hiss in rage.

Rushing forward, she saw that Neville had attempted to sit down, almost squashing Cleo in the process. Now, she raised angry fangs open at Neville, looking like she craved to bite him.

"No Cleo," Lia chastised in Parseltongue. "Sit down, he didn't mean to do that. And remember, I told you not to bite anyone at Hogwarts, I don't want to get expelled."

The snake gave one final hiss at Neville, and slithered up, wrapping her body around the rails of the overhead luggage compartment.

"I'll never get used to that," said Ron. "Make sure it doesn't come near Scabbers, all right? I heard snakes can swallow rats in one go."

The door was pushed open again, as someone else slipped in, and there was a squeal of pain.

"Who's that?" Lia asked.

"Who's that?" The voice replied. It sounded suspiciously like …

"Ginny?"

"Lia! Lia, is that you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Ron and –"

"Well you found me," said Ron. "Come and sit down."

"Ow, not there!" said Harry. "I'm here."

"Ouch!" cried Neville.

"Why are you all yelling in pain?" Malfoy's drawl echoed from the doorway of the compartment. "Did someone die?"

"Go away, Malfoy," Lia said. "I thought you were too high and mighty to sit with us."

"Quiet!"

Lia swung her head, trying to see in the dark who it was. It appeared that the hoarse voice that she didn't recognise, belonged to Professor Lupin, who had finally awoken.

Something was moving in the corner. Malfoy gave a jolt of fear and scrambled into their compartment, sitting on Lia in his haste. She hurriedly pushed him off, so that he landed with his butt plopped on the floor.

She was about to yell at Malfoy, but she heard a faint, crackling noise in the corner. Lupin whispered a spell, and a light shone out of his wand, illuminating the room.

"Stay where you are."

The door was suddenly shoved open, and a cloaked figure glided into the compartment. Although there was no wind, its black cape billowed in some eerie breeze. It seemed to suck in a deep, perturbing breath.

Lia felt a cold grip her. A cold that froze her insides. A cold that drove deeper into her skin, burrowing itself in her heart. She felt herself slide down from her seat, her eyes rolling up into her skull, she loosely heard Malfoy's grunt of surprise as she fell onto his lap, but she couldn't move - the cold was glacial and immobilising.

She was looking at Quirrell again, he pointed his wand and she fell to the ground, screaming as he tortured her.

The scene shifted, into a memory taken from one of the persistent nightmares that had plagued her since the end of Second Year. She now stood before Voldemort himself, who smiled at her, and his face transformed, blurring and sharpening until it was her face that stared back at her, her face that wore those red eyes, her face that bore that evil smile. She screamed again, trying to run away from this dark version of herself, but her reflection raised its wand and then –

Cries echoed through an empty night street. A man was yelling in rage at a woman, "Give me the girl," he hissed, "Give me the girl." She realised that this was Voldemort, standing before her mother. The baby lying in the pram behind the woman, must have been her.

"No!" Alyssia cried defiantly, ripping out her wand. "Stupe –"

"Avada Kedavra."

"Lia! Hello? Lia! Harry! Are you two alright? What's wrong with them?"

A cold hand slapped her face.

She blinked, opening her eyes, grabbing onto the wrist. It was Draco Malfoy's. "Don't touch me," she said. "What happened?"

"I heard screaming," said Harry, who was sitting up as well, rubbing his head.

"No one screamed." Ron looked scared.

The train was moving again, the lights back on, lighting up the once dim room with brightness.

"What was that … thing?" Lia asked.

"A Dementor," Lupin asked. He handed chocolate around. "One of the Dementors of Azkaban. Here, eat the chocolate, it'll help. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to the driver…" He disappeared out of the compartment, into the corridor.

"Are you sure you're both alright?" Hermione was flicking her eyes between them, looking anxious.

"I don't get it … what happened?" Harry wiped at the sweat on his face.

"I thought you two were having a fit or something," said Ron. He still looked scared. "You went sort of rigid and fell out of your seat and started twitching -"

"And Professor Lupin stepped over you, and walked toward the Dementor, and pulled out his wand," said Hermione, "and he said, 'None of us is hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks. Go.' But the Dementor didn't move, so Lupin muttered something, and a silvery thing shot out of his wand at it, and it turned around and sort of glided away..."

"It was all a bit pathetic," Malfoy said, but he looked even paler than usual, and his voice quivered as he spoke.

"I've got this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, Malfoy," said Lia. "It's almost as if nobody asked for your opinion!"

Malfoy glared at her, though his eyes were still ill at ease, apparently he _had_ been affected by the dementor.

He stalked out of the compartment.

An hour later, after the train had come to a stop, and Lia had an embarrassing talk with Madam Pomfrey in McGonagall's office, she was now seated at the Slytherin table, enjoying the feast.

"Malfoy," Lia hissed, when the others were distracted in their revelry. "If you breathe a word about what happened on the train, I'll –"

"You'll what?" he said. "Faint on me again?" He put a hand to his forehead. "Oh Draco, my _darling_ , please catch me!"

"I thought you were playing nice," Lia snapped.

Malfoy frowned then. "I suppose you were sort of right on the train. Being nice is a lot harder than I expected."

"That might be because you're just naturally a dick."

He snorted. "Yes, Lia. Because you're always _so_ bloody charming."

"And you're a delight, Malfoy. Tell me, did your parents ever ask you to run away from home?"

His eyes widened a bit, and he tensed. "My dad once. When I was nine," he said bitterly, blurting the words out before he could stop them.

Lia stared at him.

Malfoy looked shocked, and he immediately tried to rectify the damage. "I was obviously joking. Don't you always say that I'm the most spoiled brat alive? And don't look at me with that? What even is that expression, Agorios?"

It was surprise and the tiniest bit of compassion, but Lia glanced away.

"I was just wondering how you got here," she said, after a while. "Did someone leave your cage open?"

Malfoy looked relieved that she hadn't tried to pry. "Oh, piss off," he said.

Lia turned her attention back to shoving food into her mouth. She had never thought that Malfoy was a particularly complicated, three dimensional person, but she was discovering more and more that perhaps she would never solve the enigma that was Malfoy.


	22. Hippogriffs, Hospital and Roots (Year 3)

"Have you actually been able to read the book yet?" Lia asked Tracey.

They stood on the lamp lawns near Hagrid's hut, holding the Monster Book of Monsters in their hands, as they waited in anticipation for their first ever Care of Magical Creatures class.

"No," Tracey moaned. "… Don't remind me of that ... that _thing_. It almost bit my hand off when I tried opening it! Bled all over my favourite top. I think I still have the scar."

Lia snickered, but tapered her eyes as she spotted Malfoy laughing with Crabbe and Goyle. He raised his arms, in an almost zombie like pose, that Lia guessed was meant to be a dementor. Malfoy glanced at Harry, who was walking with Ron and Hermione towards the grass, and chortled harder.

She held the textbook up in her hands, about to chuck it at the blonde boy.

"C'mon, now!" Hagrid called, his voice startled Lia. "I got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

They stopped in front of an empty paddock. "Everyone gather 'round the fence!" Hagrid boomed. "That's it – make sure yeh can see – now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do it open yer books –"

"How?" Malfoy interjected.

"Eh?"

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy looked annoyed. He pointed at his copy, which was bound tight with rope. Lia had belted hers firmly with the clasp.

"Hasn' … hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid looked a little dejected as the students all shook their heads.

"Crikey. Didn' yeh know? Yeh've only got ter stoke 'em. Look –"

He gently took Hermione's copy from her hands, and tore off the Spellotape that she had used to keep it closed. Unsurprisingly, the book attempted to ferociously bite at him, but as he ran his forefinger down the spine, the book seemed to purr. It fell open and lay quiet and docile in his hand.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" sneered Malfoy. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

Hagrid looked a bit dazed, and he said uncertainly to Hermione, "I-I thought they were funny."

"Oh, yes very funny!" said Malfoy, not looked amused at all, "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our hands off!"

"Shut up Malfoy," Lia snapped to him, "Acting like a dick won't make _yours_ any bigger."

He glared at her, and then pointed openly at her flat chest, "And you do realise that acting like a bitch won't make _your_ tits any bigger?"

"Oh fuc-"

Hagrid cleared his throat. "Righ' then." He seemed to have lost whatever initial confidence he had had. "So – so yeh've got yer books an' … an' … now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on … "

He walked off into forest, presumably to summon the creatures that they would be studying. It turned out to be Hippogriffs – some of the most curious creatures that Lia had ever seen, having the appearance of enormous eagles, coupled with a horses' lower body, and long, sharp talons.

"Get up 'ere," Hagrid said, "Hippogriffs!" He smiled. "Beau'iful, aren' they? So if any of yeh wan' ter come a bit closer …"

Lia instinctively look a step backwards. Apparently all of the class, apart from Harry, had had the same idea, for he now was standing there at the front, by himself.

"Ah," said Hagrid, thinking that Harry had voluntarily taken a step forward, "Good man, 'arry. Right then – let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Harry looked like he was biting back a groan, as he reluctantly approached the beast.

"Tha's it. Easy now … stop!" Harry looked at Hagrid in alarm. "It's alrigh'. Yeh just want ter let 'im make the firs' move. It's polite, see? Jus' take a step forward, give 'im a bow, and if Buckbeak bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn', then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. Ready, Harry?"

Harry nodded, although he did not look very ready at all.

"Good. An' don't forget, yeh've got ter make eye contact … Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much …"

Despite the fact that the Hippogriff took a worryingly long time to bow to Harry, it wasn't long before her brother was soaring in the air on Buckbeak's back, a look of excited fear on his face. It wasn't much of a surprise really. Everyone always seemed to love Harry.

Lia watched with sneaking suspicion as Malfoy and Co. walked over to Buckbeak, once Harry dismounted. The Hippogriff had bowed to the boy, and Malfoy was now petting it on the beak.

"This is very easy," he drawled, prompting Lia to make her way over to them. She could tell that something bad was going to happen.

"I knew it much have been, if Potter could do it … I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you?" he taunted, staring the creature straight in the eye, "You great ugly brute."

What followed next, happened in a blur for Lia. She saw Buckbeak rear up in anger, about to slash Malfoy in half with its talons.

And the next thing she knew, she had shoved the boy away, taking the hardest impact of the blow. A burning, stinging sensation rippled up her arm.

Malfoy lay plonked on the grass, a bleeding cut on his left arm, whilst Lia stood in front of the Hippogriff, red liquid spilling from her wound, trying to raise her uninjured left arm in an attempt to calm the beast.

"It's okay, Buckbeak! I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she tried to make her voice sound soothing, even despite the pain from the laceration. "Malfoy's just always like that, you know? An awful little brat, and he's rude to everyone," she said. "He didn't mean to disrespect you, he's just ignorant and dumb and jealous."

The half-bird half-horse looked at her in an almost apologetic manner - it seemed to be saying sorry for hurting her, and nudged its head at her good arm. Hagrid slipped the collar back on the Hippogriff's head and tugged him away, his face chalk-white.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled, which scared the panicking class even more. "I'm dying. It's killed me! It's killed me!"

"Oh. Shut. Up. Malfoy," Lia snapped. "Don't be such a freaking cry-baby. I got the worse end of the stick, and I'm fine - you barely have a scratch." She was starting to feel a bit dizzy now.

"Lia!" Tracey said, looking light-headed as well. "Y-Your … your arm!"

She cursed as she glanced down.

The gash stretched from the end of her upper arm, to the middle of her forearm. It was deep enough that she swore she could see the side of a jagged white bone peeking out from beneath the flesh. Blood oozed from the cut, slowly but heavily; and the ribboned skin was already begin to swell and bruise.

She vaguely remembered thinking that she had probably damaged the blood vessels, before her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she collapsed.

Lia groaned as she regained consciousness, her arm ached, and her head was pounding. She squinted her eyes, trying to adjust to the light. She was lying on a bed in the hospital wing. As she slowly sat up, she spotted a blonde boy in the bed sitting next to her.

"Finally woken?" said Malfoy, smirking at her. "I thought that I'd have to catch you again when you fainted from fear."

"It wasn't fear!" Lia hissed, scowling in indignation. "It was blood loss."

"Sure."

"You should be more thankful! I just stopped Buckbeak from ripping out your guts!"

Malfoy frowned. "Why _did_ you do that? … Save me, I mean."

The question stumped her. She paused.

"I-I … well I … obviously knew that you were going to make a big deal out of it! And I wasn't wrong. 'I'm dying'? Honestly, can you be any more overdramatic?"

"You still haven't answered my question," he pointed out.

"Well … I … I obviously knew that you'd go running to your father and try to get Hagrid sacked. But now you can't right? I got hurt too, so I can provide a first hand testimony of how everything was _your_ fault."

"What? You mean to tell me that you got your arm cut open, just to save that bumbling oaf? I don't believe it for a second." He smiled wickedly. "You know what I think? -"

"No one cares what you think."

"I think, that you secretly do like me," he said, looking smug. "I think that you don't want to see me hurt."

"Of course you do … It's in your nature. After all, you have an enormous ego and a comparatively smaller I.Q. to match." Lia scoffed. "If I wanted to kill myself, I would climb to your ego and jump down to your I.Q."

"You haven't denied it."

"Oh would you sod off! What happened to you? You're always … always flirting now! It's disgusting. Almost as if someone's telling you to force yourself onto me or something."

His expression darkened for a second, but he shook his head.

"Maybe, I've just realised how attractive you are." He got up from the bed and leaned against the wall, as Lia stared at him with shock.

"Of course, not as good looking as I am," he said arrogantly. "But still, rather attractive. And," he leaned closer, so that she could feel his hot breath against her face. "Maybe I feel like taming the shrew."

Lia gulped. Malfoy's lips were inching closer and closer to hers. Instinctively, she pushed him away with one hand.

"Stop trying to sexually abuse me all the time!" she spat, when they were a safe distance apart. "Why can't you find someone else to bully with your fancy? I'm fucking sick of it!"

He grinned. "I know you love it, Agorios."

She snorted. "You really grow on people, don't you Malfoy?" His smirk broadened.

"But then again, so does cancer."

Malfoy gave a sudden laugh, and Lia gawked at him. The chuckle had lit up his face. It must have been the first time that she had seen him truly laugh, instead of snigger. He looked softer, more vulnerable. Malfoy seemed to realise what he was doing, and looked away.

"You're bloody annoying," he said. "I don't know how I find the strength to stand your prattling. But," he paused, looking lost in thought. "Sometimes it can be strangely charming."

"Are you playing a joke on me?" said Lia. "Because you're not funny."

She was kept in the hospital wing for an entire week, despite the fact that she told Madam Pomfrey again and again that she was perfectly fine.

The healer had narrowed her eyes, "Oh no you don't, Miss Agorios! You're not giving your body enough time to heal. I still remember in First Year, when you sneaked off from my care."

It didn't help that Malfoy was constantly there kicking up a fuss. She knew very well that his injury had to have been perfectly healed by now, for her own arm barely hurt anymore, but he seemed persistent in his attempts to stay in the wing for as long as he could.

"Don't you want to go back to class?" she asked him.

Malfoy snorted, "No."

"Or at least see your friends?"

"Maybe," he smirked,"But, you're my friend too, Lia. I much prefer your company, even if you are a vixen."

She threw her pillow at him, glowering.

Eventually, the two of them were allowed to return to their lessons, on the following Thursday morning. Lia had been trying to force Malfoy to hurry up – they were late for their potions class – but she suspected that he was purposely walking slowly to annoy her.

"How is it, Draco?" Haginson simpered, when they barged in mid-lesson, "Does it hurt terribly?"

"Yeah," Malfoy lied. He arranged his face into a strange expression that he probably thought looked heroic, but instead just made him seem as if he was shitting out diarrhoea.

"Settle down, settle down," said Snape.

"How was hospital?" Harry asked, as she set up her cauldron next to him, Ron and Hermione. They were attempting a Shrinking Solution today.

"Bad," said Lia. "Malfoy wouldn't stop whining."

Just as she said that, she saw Malfoy move over and plop himself down in a seat next to them, abandoning his own goonies: Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson.

"Sir," he called out, "sir, I'll need some help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm –"

Lia was just about to inform Snape that she knew there was nothing wrong with Malfoy, when she realised that she could use it to her own advantage.

"Professor Snape, sir, I'm even more injured!" she cried, and pretended to scan the room, finding Parkinson who was secretly sleeping on her desk. "I think I need Pansy to help me. She looks very idle over there."

"Weasley, Parkinson, go and cut up their roots," Snape said, still looking bored.

Pansy spluttered in anger, and stormed over. "There's nothing wrong with your arm."

Lia shook her head, sadly, "Pansy, Pansy, why even Malfoy said that his cut hurt! And he's _so_ brave, isn't he? By that logic, my wound must be _agonizing_. So hurry up, and chop these roots will you? Don't dally now."

Parkinson's face turned a bright cherry red, and she hacked at the roots with such barely restrained rage, that Lia thought she had to be imagining that she was actually severing off her head. Lia looked over, and saw that Ron wore a similar look of fury.

"Professor," Malfoy said, "Weasley's mutilating my roots."

"Change roots with Malfoy, Weasley."

"But sir –"

"Now."

As Ron shoved his perfectly shredded roots to Malfoy, and glared at Lia, like it was her fault that he'd screwed himself over.

"Why didn't you stand up for me? Why didn't you tell Snape that Malfoy's arm was fine?" he hissed.

Lia gave him a sarcastic look of pity. "I hate Parkinson," she said.

"So? What does that have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything," she shrugged. "… Don't deny me the chance to watch her suffer."

At Ron's betrayed expression, she sighed. "Alright, fine, I'm sorry. We can swap, if you want? Here, take the ones Haginson sliced for me." She pushed the pile over to Ron. "They're not much better, but at least they don't look like you threw them into a blender."

Ron grumbled, took the roots, and shot another dark glare at Malfoy.


	23. Boggarts and Hogsmeade (Year 3)

The timeworn wardrobe in the corner of the room was rattling again. Lia stared at it, wondering what sort of creature could possibly be trapped within the wooden doors.

Some students had stepped back in alarm at the booms and bangs and clatters that the cabinet was making.

Lupin smiled at them. "It's intriguing, isn't it? Nothing to worry about, though. There's a Boggart in there."

Apparently, a Boggart was something to worry about, for Neville's face instantly paled and took on a look of terror, whilst others were now eyeing the closet with apprehension.

Professor Lupin continued on, either oblivious to or not caring about their worries. "Boggarts enjoy dark, enclosed spaces. This one moved in yesterday, and I asked the headmaster and staff if we could leave it in here as practise for the class." He rolled up his sleeves.

"Now, the first question is, what is a Boggart?"

"They're shape-shifters," Hermione said. "They take on the shape of whatever a particular person fears the most."

"Precisely," said Lupin. "No one knows what a Boggart looks like when it is alone, but when let out, it will become whatever each of us fears most."

Lia shuddered. She was not looking forward to this. What scared her the most? Voldemort? She groaned, already able to imagine the chaos that would take hold of the class if You-Know-Who popped out the closet.

"Assemble a line!" Lupin called, as Neville dressed Boggart Snape in his grandmother's clothes.

"Parvati, forward!"

Crack.

A bandaged mummy.

"Riddikulus!"

The mummy was now entangled in its own bandages, tripping over its feet.

"Ron, go!"

Crack.

A giant spider.

"Riddikulus!"

The spider's legs vanished, and it fell down, rolling in circles on the floor.

"Seamus, now!"

Crack.

A wailing banshee.

"Riddikulus!"

The banshee grabbed at its throat, having gone mute, trying to scream without her voice.

"Lia, you next!"

She was about to say that it would probably be a bad idea if Lord Voldemort showed up, when she was shoved forwards.

For a moment, she was confused.

The Boggart seemed to have turned into … could it be a mirror? Since, all she was able to see was a reflection of herself staring back at her. She couldn't possibly be scared of a mirror, right?

Fear was bubbling in her stomach, but Lia shoved it down. "It's nothing," she thought, "I'm being irrational." She told herself to finish off the Boggart before she humiliated herself, before she showed the whole class that she was so weak that she had been paralysed by the mere image of a mirror.

Lia realised too late that, although she and the reflection were identical in face and bone structure, the girl looking back at her had feverish red eyes.

She froze. Thoughts of drawing her wand and saying the incantation escaped her mind, and she forgot, forgot that it was only a boggart before her.

Its eyes were merciless, bitterer than ice, darker than obsidian, a chasm of emptiness, a falling pit of corruption, with the same black-hearted tone that she had once seen, and they stabbed at her soul, and she swallowed and she shivered and she held back a scream.

The nightmare standing before her bore the same malevolent stare as Voldemort.

It laughed. The sound was cold and high.

"Hello Lia," it said. "Are you pleased to see me?"

All around her, the room was silent, no one dared to speak, she didn't dare to breath. She didn't think she had ever been this terrified before, not even when she stood in front of the Dark Lord himself, or when she saw the basilisk lunge at Harry.

"Who are you?" Lia whispered.

"I'm you."

She smiled. Malice dripped from her features.

"Let's play, shall we?"

She raised a wand. It was indistinguishable from the yew Lia held in her grasp.

Her eyes never strayed from Lia's face, as she straightened her arm, and pointed her hand at Harry.

"Avada Kedrava."

Lia screamed, the class screamed. But no spell, no light, nothing came out of the wand.

She moved to Ron now. Each time saying the same curse. Then to Hermione, then to Malfoy, then to Tracey, to –

Lupin stepped in between the Boggart and the horrified Lia. The reflection instantly vanished and became a silvery-white orb - a moon. It was only then that the class was finally able to break free from their trance.

"Lia!" Malfoy was at her side. "Are you alright?"

She realised that she was sucking in deep, heaving breaths, and that she had bit down so hard on her lip that she could taste blood in her mouth.

She struggled to regain her control. "I-I'm fine." She forced a shaky smile. "That was a bit of a shock wasn't it?"

"That's an understatement."

"We're actually kind of lucky. I was sure that it was going to turn into You-Know-Who … He's definitely a lot scarier than me, isn't he?"

He noticed her choice of words, how she had said 'me' instead of 'it'. "You know that wasn't _you_ , don't you, dumbass?"

"Of course," she snapped. "And you should at least first bloody look at yourself, before you start calling me a dumbass!"

Lia did not like one bit how the other students were all staring at her. As if she were some delicate flower, or a particularly fragile bit of glass. She wished that she could obliviate the incident from all their minds. They probably all thought that she was mentally unstable by now.

Lia scowled. She could not stand being weak. She could not stand being so afraid.

As Lupin dismissed the class, she left hurriedly before the professor could stop her to have a heart to heart discussion, and headed off to the library in search for a book.

She was going to do something about that fear of hers. Even if she had to spend the rest of her life searching for a cure.

A few days later, on Halloween, Lia strolled beside Tracey. It was their first visit to Hogsmeade. She would've liked it if Harry had been there as well, but McGonagall had refused to permit him to participate with an unsigned form.

"Tracey! My dearest friend," Lia said, in what she hoped was a persuasive voice. "Let's go to the shrieking shack!"

Tracey rolled her eyes.

"C'mon. It'll be fun!"

"Then go there yourself!" Davis scoffed. "I, for one, don't feel like getting haunted today."

"Well, I can't do that, can I?" Lia grumbled. "It won't be fun if _you're_ not there. The whole point of going at all, is so I can scare you into shitting your pants … Boo!" she said suddenly, leaping at Tracey with clawed hands.

She glared at Lia, clearly not impressed. "How kind of you," she said sarcastically. "Really makes me feel like reconsidering."

Tracey's eyes lit up, temporarily distracted, as she caught sight of a shop. "Oh! Look, there's The Three Broomsticks! They have divine Butterbeer!" Her mouth almost dribbled out saliva at the thought.

She tugged Lia all the way up to the front door. The pub inside was warm and crowded, a few clouds of smoke lingering above. They scanned around for a seat.

"Lia! Tracey!" a bright voice called out. Caroline Summers sat with her best friend Selene Blackwater on a table near the window. "Fancy meeting you here? Come then, you have to join us!"

She pulled out two seats and motioned for them to sit.

"Hello," said Selene, giving them a small smile.

"Gosh. Isn't it wonderful to finally be at Hogsmeade?" Caroline gave them a huge beam.

"I've been dying to come since First Year. I've got an older sister, who's two years older, and she told me all about it. She bought this gorgeous dress from here, quite expensive, but so beautiful, silk you know? I saw her wear it once, gave her boyfriend a massive shock, he ogled her the whole night! I've wanted to come get one too, but I just didn't bring enough gallons with me. And I asked my mum to send some up but she said I already bought too much stuff to wear, and that my wardrobe was already going to burst, which is quite unfair you know? She could totally just use an enlargement charm, it's not even difficult!"

Lia listened half-heartedly as Summers babbled on rapidly, and tried to nod her head at the correct moments. She'd always thought that her roommate was too friendly and chatty to be in Slytherin.

"Carol." Selene put her hand on her friend's arm. "You're rambling again."

Caroline's cheeks reddened. "Sorry. I tend to do that a lot. Mum says that I just have too many words bottled up inside me and I just can't bear not to let them out. Anyway, let's not talk about me. Let's talk about you, Lia!"

"Me? What about me? … I don't think you'll really find much to talk about. I'm not very interesting."

"What about you and Draco?" Summers winked at her.

"No." Lia made a move to stand up, but Tracey grabbed her and shoved her back down.

"No," she repeated, "I'm not having this conversation," she scowled, "There is no me and Malfoy."

"Oh, but he's always talking to you! And he's so handsome too, and dark and mysterious …" Summers trailed off, lost in her daydreams.

"Yes," said Lia, her voice sharp. "He is dark and handsome." Tracey raised an eyebrow at her.

"When it's dark, he's handsome."

"How can you say that? Malfoy's like the epitome of hot! He's like an eleven out of ten."

"Are you blind? His face is all pointed and pale."

"It's chiselled! And radiant!"

"No," Lia rolled her eyes. "It's fugly and disgusting. You only like him because he's filthy rich."

Caroline smiled a little at that. "Well, money is always a bit appealing … But, even Selene thinks he's handsome!"

Selene blushed.

"Of course," Summers continued. "Not as handsome as Theodore Nott though!"

"Shush," Selene said in a murmur, looking anxious. "What if he's nearby?"

"Then you can finally stop all that sexual tension between you two! You can be like the two hot little nerds together … Speaking of sexual tension, you can't deny that intense attraction between you and Malfoy, Lia!"

"Do you mean all those times I try to wring out his neck?"

"No. I mean when you are both so tragically in love that you just can't stop helping each other!" she sighed dreamily. "I mean when you rescued him from that Hippogriff? It was beautiful. And then he went straight to you after Defense Against the Dark Arts and asked you if you were alright. So romantic. And he always stares at you too!"

"He stares because he's plotting something."

"Who's plotting something?" said someone, in a drawl.

"Malfoy."

"Hello, Lia. How are you this fine day?"

"Just jolly. I was about to plot how I was going to shave off your hair tonight. Do you have any tips? And by the way, your bloody village called. They want their idiot back."

"Hm. How wonderful. I thought of you too today, Lia -"

"Oh, did you now?"

"It reminded me to take the trash out of my room."

"Well then, I do hope that it's a lot cleaner, but I guess that it'll always be littered with your filth. You do have a _stain_. A _permanent stain_ , after all."

Malfoy sighed. "You'll never let me forget that will you?"

"It's sort of difficult to forget something so traumatic! I think I lost half my brain cells when you kidnapped me."

Caroline's eyes widened. Lia groaned.

"It wasn't like tha –"

"Let's go ladies," she said loudly. "We should look at Honeydukes." She then said in a not so quiet whisper, "And give them some privacy."

Lia groaned again.

"What was that all about?" Malfoy said, his forehead scrunched up.

"Don't ask."

"… Want me to buy you a butterbeer?"

"No."

He faked shock. "I didn't know that you could turn down free food!"

"I don't want anything bought with your father's money."

Malfoy snorted. "You hate him?"

"Yes," she blurted. Then stopped to ponder, "… at least, I think I do."

"Good," Malfoy said after a pause. He slugged down his drink in one go. "That makes you wiser than I thought."

"What do you me-"

"Let's go to Honeydukes. I want Pepper Imps." He abruptly stood up, pushed back his chair, flung some money onto the table and walked off. As he turned his head back to Lia, he saw that she was still dawdling at the table.

"Come on."

Seeing that she was still sitting on her chair, Malfoy shook his head and left, leaving her there, lost in thought, by herself.


	24. Nightmares (Year 3)

Draco glared at the parchment he held between his fingertips.

It was slightly tattered, the edges wrinkled from the multiple times that he had repeatedly folded and unfolded the letter. The ink shone black, black as the night outside - the words written with that black ringing again and again in his mind.

He groaned as he reread the words that his father had wrote to him:

 _Dear Draco,_

 _Let me start by saying that I am extremely irritated with you, and ashamed by your blatant disregard and disrespect towards me._

 _It has come to my attention that you have been ignoring the previous letters I have written to you. I know this, for your mother has informed me of how you wrote to her only last week, asking for extra money to obtain new robes._

 _Need I remind you that I am your father?_

 _I will not tolerate rudeness or tardiness from my own blood. And your mother and I will certainly not be mailing gallons to you if you do not have the decency to obey my clear instructions._ _As you must know by now, I await your answer regarding how your relationship with that girl is going. Since, you have not yet replied, I am forced to assume that it is because you are failing._

 _This is unacceptable._

 _You have disappointed me. You have disappointed your mother. I believed that a boy, with the upbringing that Narcissa and I have raised you in, would understand the importance of this task. When the master rises again, it would be of the upmost humiliation if I were to find that you have not managed to make a simple-minded child become infatuated with you._

 _Failure is not allowed in my family. The Malfoys do not fail. We are victors. We triumph._

 _You are my only son. That is the sole reason why I have provided you with such leniency. Had your mother not loved you so much, and I sensed your hidden potential, you would surely already have been disowned._ _Heed my words, if you do not reply by the end of the week, and inform me that you have at least progressed somewhat, we will be having a long discussion during the summer holidays surrounding your own priorities and obedience to the family name._

 _Let me remind you one last time. I do not accept failure. The consequences for it will not be small. You do not wish to make me angry._

 _I await your prompt reply._

There was no signature. And no loving remark like 'lots of love', or 'wishing you the best, or even 'kind regards'.

Draco swore.

He was going to go mad if he kept staring at this bullshit. He ran a hand through his hair. Where was his quill? He swore again. He'd left it downstairs. Of course.

He glanced at the time. It was already twenty minutes past midnight. His roommates were all asleep, lost in their dreams, Crabbe was twitching and breathing out deep snores.

He slipped his feet into his shoes, and rolled the letter up into a ball. He had to get rid of that thing, and write back to his father, before they decided to screw it and indeed disown him. What was he going to write though? That Agorios perhaps didn't hate him as much as he thought? He shook his head.

He was royally fucked.

Trying to step quietly down the common room stairs, he moved towards the fire and bent in front of it. Immediately, he felt the warmth radiating back at him, and with one swoop he threw the rolled up letter from his father into the flames. He watched it burn with a grim sort of satisfaction. He spotted his quill lying metres away from him on the table nearby. He must have forgotten to pick it up after he'd written his potions essay.

As he made to stand up, he heard a soft mumble, and startled.

Agorios lay on the couch in the corner, he must have missed her when he walked in, and she was grumbling in her sleep. He moved to wake her up and noticed that a spell book had fallen out of her hands. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, and she tossed her arms about, her expression pained.

"No," she whispered quietly, "Please, no, not him, please."

Draco looked at her curiously. Was she having a nightmare?

Sleeping on the couch, Lia was indeed having a nightmare.

She had been staying up in the common room, trying to work on her spells, when she had found her eyes growing heavier and heavier. The book had slipped out of her hands, as her body relaxed and fell into a deep sleep.

She stood in front of Slytherin's statue in the Chamber of Secrets once more. Harry was beside her, shouting at her to stab Riddle's diary.

Lia let her eyes wander around and she spotted Tom watching them, with a smirk on his face, leaning against a broad pillar. Then he was pointing his wand at Harry, about to curse him, and Lia realised with haste that she had to end this, end him.

She picked up the basilisk fang and stabbed down, still staring at Riddle, transfixed. But as she raised the tooth up about to press down once more, she saw that the hilt dripped red blood, not black ink. Eyes wide with alarm, she glanced down.

And screamed.

Her brother's eyes stared up at her ... Except they did not stare. They were glassy, frozen, unmoving.

Dead.

She screamed again.

Blood was seeping out of the wound on his chest, and she realised that she must have stabbed him in the chest. The diary was gone, and in her arms, she held only Harry's lifeless body.

And then the basilisk fang was no longer a fang, but a dripping, bitingly frigid shard of ice, identical to the one she had drawn when Riddle had possessed her.

"You've killed him," came Riddle's cold voice. "You killed your brother."

"No," Lia whispered. "No! I can't have! I didn't! I wouldn't! I-I … You made me do it! You tricked me!"

Riddle smiled. "Do not lie to yourself. You know the evil that resides in you, girl - this is all your doing."

His face transformed once more. And again, she stared back at herself. Her own reflection, identical, albeit for the gleaming red eyes.

"Hello," she said, her face just as cruel, just as vengeful as Riddle's had been. "Miss me?"

"Get away!" Lia cried. "Get the fuck away from me!"

"I can't get away," she said. "I am you."

Then she wrapped her hands around Lia's throat, and for one strange second, Lia thought that she was going to kiss her around the mouth. But then the reflection turned into a cloudy puff of smoke, that flew down her throat, into her oesophagus, and plunged itself deep into her heart.

Lia's voice was hoarse from screaming.

She felt its presence in her – a dark, malevolent force. And then once more, she couldn't control anything, couldn't move her body, couldn't use her free will, couldn't stop herself and she couldn't even think.

Then she was standing laughing madly, in the middle of a war-torn field full of bodies. She was the sole survivor.

Flames burst around her, furiously licking at the piled up figures tossed around the ground. She saw Harry, Hermione, Ron, Tracey, Malfoy and an array of faces that she all recognised, strung dead upon the ground.

Then Malfoy was standing up. His eyes were no longer vacant.

"Lia," he said, shaking her around the shoulders. An annoying buzzing sound filled the air. "Lia wake up."

Her eyes shot open. She launched up with a rattling breath, sucking in air so deeply that she thought that, before, her lungs must have forgotten how to inhale.

"Woah," said Malfoy. He put a hand on her back to steady her. "Easy now."

"Don't touch me!" Lia spat out.

"Ooh. Touchy, touchy."

"I'm not fucking in the mood for your bullshit!"

"Hey, calm down okay? I know you had a nightmare … I get them too. Just focus on your surroundings. Tell me what you see right now."

"I see your fucking stupid head!"

"Just do it, properly."

"A book, a fire, a window, a chair, a table, a quill, a piece of parchment … How the fuck is this meant to help?"

Malfoy sighed in exasperation. "It ground you, you see? It helps you know that this is reality, and that was just a dream."

"Well it doesn't bloody work."

"Here." He chucked a tissue at her. "Wipe your face with this."

Lia pressed it to her face, and found that she was dabbing at a mixture of sweat … and tears. She swore. Crying. In front of Malfoy. She was going to lose it.

Malfoy looked at her expression. "I know, I know. I didn't see anything. I have a sudden case of … amnesia. Okay? Happy?"

"Not in the slightest."

"What are you doing down here anyway, so late?"

"I was studying spells. Must have fallen asleep," she grumbled. She narrowed her eyes. "Why are _you_ here?"

He looked uncomfortable, and the muscles in his shoulders immediately grew rigid, the relaxed expression falling from his face.

"Insomnia," was all he said.

"What's that in your hand? … Ooh. Writing a letter to daddy dearest, are we?"

He snorted loudly. "No one would ever dare call Lucius 'daddy'. You'd die screaming … And he's certainly not dear, either."

"He can't be that bad. To you at least. You're his son ... He must love you."

Malfoy averted his eyes, and changed the topic. There was something guarded about his expression now, something that reminded Lia of a robust wall of steel. "What did you dream about?" he said, after a while. He looked at her, the steely expression falling, and he suddenly looked awkward, looked more vulnerable. "Do ... do you want to ... talk about it?" he almost stammered out the words.

She bit back a cry of laughter. "Go away, Malfoy. If I wanted to talk about emotions, I'd have a better time speaking to a wet rag."

"Why do you always call me that?"

"What? Malfoy? It's your name, isn't it?"

"No," he drawled, looking at her as if he had missed something very obvious. " _Draco_ is my name. Malfoy is my last name."

"Still a name," said Lia, wilfully.

"Why can't you call me Draco?"

"It doesn't suit you."

"Yes, it does."

"No, it doesn't … okay then fine, why can't you call me Lia?"

"I do call you Lia. Most of the time at least."

"No you -"

"I do. At least, lately I have been." He paused, and ran a hand through his sleek blond hair. "How about this … I'll call you Lia, if you call me Draco."

"Why do you even care?"

"We're friends aren't we? Friends shouldn't use names that have such … animosity."

Lia shook her head, roughly. "We're not friends."

"You wound me, Lia. Why can't we be friends then?"

"You hate my brother," she said instinctively, then stopped to think. "…. And blood runs thicker than water."

"You're not even related to him."

"He's still the only family I've got!"

Malfoy shook his head. "What? So you won't be friends with me because of some absurd sense of honour, of loyalty to Potter? I -"

"See, you just called him Potter."

"That's understandable because I don't like him. But, just because I don't like Potter much, doesn't mean I don't like you, Lia."

"Why do you even hate him? He's not _that_ bad."

"He's arrogant, and foolish, and no one seems to see that. When people look at him, all they see is the bloody amazing Boy-Who-Lived. It's disgusting."

"… You're jealous," said Lia, opening her mouth in realisation. "You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" The fast and snappy retort, only served to reinforce Lia's point. Malfoy seemed to realise this, and his shoulders tensed.

"You are!" She laughed then. "You envy my brother. Oh wait til I tell him –"

"You won't tell him. Because a) it's not true and b) if you breath a word of this, I'll spread the news that you're having little crying fits at night."

"You wouldn't."

"Want to test that?"

"Fuck you."

"No thanks. I don't think that's possible."

"Well piss off then, Malfoy. You annoy me when you breath."

"Call me Draco."

"No."

Malfoy took a deep breath. "I'll be … nice … to Potter if you call me Draco."

"I don't think you have it in you to actually be nice."

"Pleasant, then ... And I'll stop calling Granger a Mudblood."

"Why are you so desperate?"

"You wouldn't want to know."

"What does that mean? –"

"It means, that I'm done with this conversation! I'm tired. And I want to go to bed. So, tell me then Lia, is it a deal or not?" He stretched out his hand, raising an eyebrow at her.

"I'll … I'll consider it," she grumbled out.

He grabbed at her hand, and shook it, his grip tight to stop her from pulling away.

"It's a deal then," he said.

The ridiculous smirk was back on his face.


	25. Flying, Falling and Draco (Year 3)

The deafening echo of thunder rang through the night, the clasp of thunder that followed, igniting it with a fierce white-gold glow.

Lia sat trembling on her broomstick, as water dripped down her hair, dribbling into her eyes. She blinked rapidly, endeavouring not to lose her vision despite the fact that the pitch was riddled with fog and the rain fell so heavily that she could barely see a few metres in front of her.

It was the first match of the season. Gryffindor verses Slytherin, and she played as one of three Chasers.

It was rather unfortunate that she had absolutely no idea what she was doing.

It was also rather unfortunate for Flint, since, due to the fact that nobody could barely even recognise who was who, her clumsy flying around the pitch had no effect on Harry, Fred and George's skill whatsoever.

It was awful.

And for a moment, she contemplated dropping down straight to the ground, slamming the broom that Malfoy had bought the team to the ground, and stalking off.

She flew around frantically, trying to find the Quaffle with her eyes. She vaguely saw a broad, hulking figure, that she identified as Adrian Pucey and tore towards him.

"Grab the Quaffle!" he yelled as he spotted her. He flipped around in his broom to avoid the Bludger that was hurtling towards him, and threw the ball with one hand towards Lia.

She dropped it.

"Fuck."

Pucey was not impressed. "You were barely three metres away from me!" he roared.

"I'm sorry!" she hollered back, raising her voice over the echo of thunder, "But, I didn't want to bloody be here in the first place."

"Stay out of my way," he spat back, and prepared to fly after the soaring ball.

"Gladly."

She urged her broomstick down, thinking that it would probably be safer if she was closer to the ground, and the fog lighter. The clouds indeed cleared up the lower she went, until she was actually able to have a vague idea of where she was and what was happening.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a wave of blond hair. Draco Malfoy was sitting on his broom, punching one arm up in delight, in his other, he held a small, gold object, that fluttered, and then fell slack in his grasp. Was that …?

Her eyes widened. It appeared that Malfoy had finally been able to beat her brother, and capture the Snitch before him.

Lia had to admit that Malfoy was rather talented at Quidditch, probably owing to the fact that he had practised far before his Hogwarts years. Ordinarily, he could have been the best in the year, perhaps the best in the school, but he paled in comparison to Harry.

That sparked a thought – she looked around. Where was Harry? It was so unlike him to be so far apart from the snitch, not with his stellar eyesight and swift reflexes.

Then she saw him. And she saw _them_.

A crowd full of dementors were hovering beneath her brother, the black clocks rippling in the wind again, as they had that time on the Hogwarts Express.

Harry was falling.

Falling.

Faster and faster, dropping down from the sky, his broomstick blown away in the wind. He was limp, unmoving, and Lia realised that he must have been unconscious.

The problem was that they were at least fifty metres up in the sky. If he tumbled to the ground, the results would be dire.

Lia wasted no time. She wasn't sure if her mind was working, because afterwards she didn't remember thinking at all – it was more of a gut impulse that drove her to fly after Harry.

She could have just pulled out her wand. She could have just used a simple movement charm. But of course, in her haste, she forgot everything.

"Harry!" she yelled.

She pressed her broom down, pleading with it to go faster, to move smoother through the air. But she had never been good at flying, and the blasted thing wouldn't obey her commands. If anything, it seemed to go even slower.

Lia wasn't sure what sparked her to do what she did next.

Frustrated and scared beyond belief, she leapt off her broom, and then she too was free-falling down.

She realised too late what she had done. "Fuck," she swore again.

She pressed her arms by her side, and forced her legs together, so that she was dropping in the form of a vertical needle. The air resistance acting on her lessened, she fell faster, and then she was grabbing at Harry's arm.

Which didn't help anything.

They were still falling.

Lia tried desperately to grab her wand out of her pocket, but her hands were numb from cold, the fingers shaking too much to undo the buttons.

She cursed. She was an idiot. And now they were both going to die.

"Lia!" Malfoy yelled. "Damn it!"

And then he shoved the Snitch into his pocket and dove after them. As Lia plummeted, her face tilted up towards the sky, she saw that Malfoy was growing closer, and even she had to admire the skill and ease at which he rode the broomstick.

"Grab onto Potter!" he bellowed, and Lia looped her hand around her brother's arm.

Malfoy reached down and latched his hand around her robes, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Lia was suddenly thankful that she had done up the buttons so tight, for they stopped falling, and Malfoy hanged onto them, Lia extended out as if she were a rag doll, her hand gripping onto Harry, so that all of them were connected in one long chain of limbs.

She sighed in relief. So they weren't going to die after all.

She thought too soon.

The broom wobbled, even as a Nimbus Two Thousand and One, it was unused to handling the weight of three people. It gave another shake, and promptly splintered in half.

They fell again.

This time, it was Malfoy that cursed.

As the ground grew closer, the three of them still propelling downwards, Lia closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact that was bound to come.

At the last minute however, Dumbledore raised his wand and they immediately slowed down, as if a parachute had been attached to their backs. Despite that, there was not enough time for them to come completely to a stop.

She slammed to the ground, and the world went black.

* * *

When Lia regained consciousness, she found that she was back in the Hospital Wing once more. This had to be the what? Third time, that she'd been there. Her hair was glued to her forehead, the sheets crumpled up around her chin. A glass of water rested on the small table next to her, and she gobbled down the contents, parched.

She found that Malfoy was awake too, and piercing her with his gaze once more.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Harry fell," said Malfoy, looking bored. "You decided to leap after him. I chose to save you, and we almost died in the process. It was all very dramatic."

'What? Wait, what?" Her mouth opened in shock. "What the fuck. Malfoy? You dived after me? You tried to save Harry! What?"

"I didn't do it for him," he grumbled, looking offended.

"Why?" she asked. "You haven't actually lost your mind have you?"

Malfoy shook his head. "I wasn't going to just hover there and watch you splinter into little pieces, Lia. We're friends. Besides," he frowned, "I didn't realise that the stupid broom would fracture."

"I don't believe it. But you're a dick, Malfoy! You don't … don't save people like that."

"I told you. I didn't think the broomstick would break. Anyway, I'd caught the Snitch. We won, by the way. So I had nothing better to do."

Lia was still staring at him with shock.

"I'm not a hero."

"I thought that much was obvious," she said. "You're more the villain type."

He snorted.

There was another grumble in the room, and she saw Harry stirring, he was lying in a bed that was placed directly opposite from her own. There were flowers and chocolate and cards placed beside him. It made Lia's glass of water look a bit sad in comparison.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Malfoy sighed in exasperation and began his explanation again.

"You saved us? Why?"

"How many times do I have to say this? I didn't do it for you Potter." He paused. "Besides, I was thinking of how bad it would look if I just stood there and let the Chaser and Heiress of Slytherin fall to a bloody death."

Harry was frowning as his eyes shifted to Malfoy, then to Lia, and back again, his head whipping about so rapidly that Lia thought he would sprain his neck.

There was a long silence.

"I don't like you, Malfoy," Harry said finally.

"What a shock."

"But … thanks," he muttered, looking sour.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Now that is a shock."

"Thanks for thinking of Lia," Harry grimaced. "I-I…" He seemed to be choking on his words.

Malfoy looked positively disgusted. "Potter," he snapped, glaring. "We're not going to have a fucking heart to heart. So shut your bloody mouth."

* * *

They were released from the wing after the weekend passed.

"Flint!" Lia yelled. She had been looking for the Slytheirn Quidditch Captain ever since she had finally gotten out from the hospital.

He looked over at her, breaking off from his conversation with the horde of Slytherins.

"Lia," he said. "You're kicked off the team. Unanimous decision. Pucey's been ranting all week about how you couldn't even catch something as big and obvious as the Quaffle."

She sighed in relief. "Thank god … And here I thought that I'd have to hand in my letter of resignation."

"Your what?" asked Flint, frowning.

"Nevermind."

* * *

The following days passed by in a blur. The weather grew colder and darker as the bitter winter approached. The sky grew gloomy and obscured with melancholy, bulging storm clouds of rain. The only upside to it, was the snow that drifted down like bleached petals falling from a cherry blossom, so pure that they seemed to elevate Lia's spirits.

"Christmas!" Tracy shook Lia out of her trance. She had been peering out the window at the sleet-capped landscape again. "It's Christmas!"

"Wonderful," she replied, not looking too excited. She'd had another one of her nightmares the night before, and was trying to shake the images from her mind.

"Who pissed on your bed today? It's Christmas! Be happy! Come on, open the presents. Bet you'll love what I got you!"

Tracey shoved a parcel at her, it was wrapped with glossy red paper, topped with a neat green bow. Lia unravelled the wrapping on the outside, to find another cardboard box inside. She raised an eyebrow at Tracey.

"Open it."

As soon as her hands tore apart packaging, she saw what looked like a scrunched up bit of plastic inside. Before her very eyes, it grew larger and larger in size, like an inflatable toy that just been blown up.

In seconds, it transformed into what appeared to be a rather hefty enclosure, with the plastic hardening into almost glass-like walls that formed into a rectangular prism.

"It's a cage, see," said Tracey. "For Cleo. Wait til I show you what it can do."

She pressed at a button on one side, and the cage immediately shrunk back down into a flat sheet the size of a book. "It's collapsible! Handy, huh?"

"Thanks," Lia said, grinning. She picked her snake up, pressing the button, and gently placed Cleo onto the soil floor inside. The snake gave a happy hiss, and ducked down into a hollow log. "I think she likes it."

She picked up another present, a smaller one, that was slightly hidden in the corner. "Who's this from?"

Tracey shrugged. "Carol gave it to me. She said she found it on a table, and it's addressed to you. No idea who sent it."

Lia glanced at it, suspiciously. "Wonder if it's a prank?" After a moment of prodding it, she shrugged and removed the sage green wrapping. A tiny slip of paper fell out:

 _To Lia,_

 _For your necklace._

That was all it said.

"Woah. Beautiful," Tracey said, peering over Lia's shoulder.

Lia turned the gift around in her hands, she almost felt bad for placing her slightly grimy fingers on the charm, afraid she would mar the unblemished surface. It was made from a burnished sterling silver, a curling snake positioned in an upright figure eight shape, its head coming out from the tip where the two circles touched. Instead of two cavities for eyes, there were two minuscule diamonds, shining so brightly that it appeared as if the snake was really staring back at her.

"Put it on!"

Lia unfastened her mother's pendant that she now wore even when sleeping, and slid on the charm, it hung there, matching perfectly with the citrine gemstone already dangling off the chain.

"It's pretty," Lia said, admiring it.

"I wonder who bought it?" said Tracy. "It must have cost a fortune. The note's not signed." She grinned. "Looks like you have a mystery admirer!"

Lia scoffed. "Funny."

* * *

A few weeks later, Lia trampled through the grassy yard, towards Malfoy, her expression radiating with bare-controlled rage, like a volcano preparing to burst.

"Malfoy," Lia hissed, seething. "You just had to go and tell your father about Buckbeak, didn't you? You know he's going to get executed right? And it's all your fault. You're going to be responsible for a death!"

His expression contorted fractionally. "I didn't voluntarily tell him - your parents automatically get notified if you've been up at the hospital wing. And, besides I thought you were going to save that beast with your testimony or some crap like that."

"I tried!" She threw her arms up vexation. "They wouldn't freaking listen to me! I swear, everyone one of those judges in that trial must be arrogant, ignorant fucking toe-bags. I hope that their lives are as short as their dicks must be!"

Malfoy shook his head. "And you wonder why they didn't listen? You should get a leash for that mouth."

"Shut _your_ mouth. I told them all about how it was all your fault for provoking Buckbeak and how everyone was told not to insult it or look it in the eye, but of course Malfoy was an idiot and he decided to wreck everything and lose his mind and do whatever the hell he wanted!"

"I'm sure they took that well."

"You know what they said?" she roared. "They said that I was being irrational, and then they asked me what happened next, and I told them how I pushed you to the ground. Then bloody Lucius Malfoy goes and shows them pictures of my arm post-Buckbeak. And he's all like she's obviously still confused, and how Hagrid had brainwashed me so much that I was blind to the fact that he almost caused me to lose my life! What a load of absolute bullshit."

"Look, Lia. The Hippogriff is pretty dangerous."

"It isn't!" she groaned. "Not if you respect the rules. I don't understand why you always have to go around screwing things up, Malfoy."

"Hey," he looked affronted. "I saved your life the other day."

"No you didn't, the broom cracked, and we would've died if Dumbledore weren't there."

"I slowed you two down, so that he had enough time to say the spell."

"He would've said it anyway. He's Dumbledore."

"The fact is Lia, you owe me."

She narrowed her eyes. "What the hell do you want now, Malfoy?" she grumbled.

"The same as always ... I want you to call me Draco."

"That again? Why?"

"I simply like Draco much better than Malfoy." He grinned wickedly, and leaned closer towards her. He whispered in his ear, "And also, I love it when you say Draco. It rolls off your tongue, very ... seductively."

"Oh piss off!"

She shoved him away roughly.

"You owe me, Lia. And look, I was pretty alright to Harry at the hospital wing, wasn't I?"

"No."

"No, Draco," he said.

"No, Malfoy," she retorted.

He sighed. "Why do you have to be so bloody stubborn!"

"Because," she spat. "You're a stupid, mean, conceited bully!"

"Well that's very rude, isn't it."

"So is calling someone stubborn!"

"I won't call you stubborn anymore, if you call me Draco."

They had exchanged a long, tense look.

Lia groaned. She was getting very, very, very sick of this crap. "Will you stop bothering me all the time, then, if I call you ... Draco?" She said the name with revulsion.

Malfoy smirked. He looked like the cat that got the cream. "Promise I will," he said.

Lia sighed.

"Fine," she instantly felt as if she would regret accepting. "Malf ... Draco. I swear to god though! If you annoy me one bit, it's back to fucking Malfoy for you!"

"I thought you said that I _always_ annoy you Lia."

"More than usual, then."

He smiled then, a real genuine smile. Lia remembered how she had once thought that his smile was creepy, like Norman Bates, but this one, this white toothy grin, sent tingles up her back.

She stared.

The bell rang suddenly, Lia gave a little jump she surprise, and reached down to grab her satchel topped full of books and quills and ink.

"We have to go to class," she muttered. Before waiting for Mal- _Draco_ to reply. She stomped off, letting her hair hang loose around her face so that it covered the pink blush that she knew was flaming on her cheeks.

What was wrong with her?


	26. Shrieking Shack (Year 3)

The silence that trailed after the distinctive thud of an axe colliding against a rigid object, was unbearable. There had been no cry, no shriek of pain, for Buckbeak appeared to have faced death with a quiet acceptance, with only the shriek of crows resonating in the distance to mark the fact that something dreadful, something murderous, had occurred on those grassy fields.

The gloomy sky above reflected all of their moods, even the luminous moon itself seemed to mourn, for it hid behind the ominous clouds, only a slight flicker peeking out – a silent foreshadowing of what was to come.

Hermione was swaying, her face pale against her brown locks. "They did it," she whispered, her tone incredulous, "I'd … I-I don't believe it … they did it!"

"Hagrid," Harry mumbled, as he made a lunge forwards, his legs almost breaking into a run, almost propelling him back to Hagrid's hut – had Lia not seized him on the arm. She was pulled forwards, and nearly collapsed on top of him, grabbing onto Hermione's hand to steady the both of them.

"Don't be stupid!" she snapped.

"We can't," Hermione said, whose expression of misery mirrored their own. "He'll be in worse trouble if they know we've been to see him …"

The four of them were headed back to the castle, when Ron's rat, Scabbers, began squirming like a tantrum-ridden child in his pocket. "Scabbers, keep still," Ron hissed, but the rat paid them no attention. "What's the matter with you, you stupid rat?"

He pointed a finger at Lia in blame. "You bought your snake out again, didn't you!" he spluttered.

"No," Lia said glaring at him, furious at the undue claims he was making. "I didn't. As I've told you about a dozen times, Cleo's in my room at the moment, she's quite fond of her new enclosure. So spare me your brainless accusations! I honestly don't give a damn."

"Then what's the matter with him?" Ron said angrily. "He. Won't. Stay. Put!"

Then he spotted the yellow eyed cat that was slinking towards them, body crouched down like a panther about to pounce.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione moaned. "Oh no, go away, Crookshanks. Go away!"

Whilst the cat grew closer to Ron, the rat suddenly slipped out from his grasp, and scampered away across the grass, fleeing. Both Crookshanks and Ron followed after the pet, shooting off into the already dark field below.

"Ron!"

"Get back here, you idiot!" Lia hollered after his retreating back.

He ignored them, forcing the other three to break off into an impromptu sprint after his footsteps. Lia breath was coming out in heavy pants - she had never been the athletic type, and she was desperately wishing that she had thrown away her laziness and gone on more 'fun' morning runs with Caroline, for her legs ached like a thousand needles were piercing her calves.

"Ron!" she yelled again. "Can you bloody slow down? I'm dying here!"

When she finally got caught up to him, Ron was sprawled on the ground, Scabbers back in his grasp - although the rat was still struggling, flopping about like a fish yanked out of water.

And then, out of the shadows that enclosed them, a large creature bounded towards them, its feet beating against the ground – a jet black dog, with surprisingly intelligent pale eyes. It knocked Harry violently off its feet, before it fastened its canine jaws around Ron's leg and dragged him away like a rag doll.

Lia swore. "What the hell is going on? That … that dog just took a bite out of Ron like he's a fresh chop of lamb!"

"Come on," Harry yelled. "We have to help him!" Just as the words left his mouth, there was a loud smack and he gave a yell of pain, Hermione following after him with a cry of her own.

"What happened? What's wro-" In the dim light that shone out from the moon, Lia vaguely saw the outline of an elongated … what was that?

"Lumos," she said, and promptly cursed.

After their dash after Ron, they had apparently come into reach of the Whomping Willow's swiping branches, with a particularly long bough drawing alarmingly close to her person.

Unsure of what to do, she reached out her arms, trying to protect her face, and the willow knocked her hard in the stomach. Her hands instinctively grabbed onto the branch, and as it moved, she flew around with it in mid-air, hysterical, and trying her best not to allow her already shaking and sweaty fingers to slip off the bumpy bark.

"Do something!" she yelled.

Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, darted forwards and slipped between the pummelling branches, dodging the incoming blows like an expert spy. Swift and nimble, he placed his front paw on a knot on the trunk.

The tree immediately froze.

And Lia slipped off the edge of the branch, soaring through the air, and landing with a thump on the ground.

"Lia!" Harry yelled in alarm. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said, pulling a curled up leaf out of her hair, and rubbing the dirt off her palms. "How did the cat know though?"

"He's friends with that dog," Harry said, his expression grim. "I've seen them together. Come on, let's go, and keep your wand out."

They followed Crookshanks, as he slid down into a gap in the roots, and crawled headfirst through a dark, underground tunnel. It led them to a large, unkempt room, with the wallpaper peeling in slits down the walls, murky stains discolouring the wooden floor in random splotches, and so much dust that Lia sneezed as it drifted up her nose.

"I think we're in the Shrieking Shack," Hermione whispered, looking around in fright.

"Nox," Lia whispered and the light at the end of her wand pinched out. The three moved forwards, vigilant, and scanning the surroundings for any sign of Ron. They heard a low moan, and the sound of a cat purring in the room at the end of the corridor. Harry kicked the door to the chamber open, his wand drawn out and held firmly in front.

"Ron, are you alright?" Hermione said, running to the boy and kneeling with white hands, examining Ron's wound, her face drawn and anxious.

"Where's the dog?" said Harry.

"Not a dog," Ron replied through gritted teeth, a band of sweat dripped down his temple. "Harry, it's a trap –"

"What –"

"He's the dog … he's an Animagus."

"You're kidding me," said Lia.

The doors slammed shut with a resonant bang – a man, who had stepped out of the shadows in the corner, had closed it with one hand. His hair was a tangle of wild, filthy hair that hung down past his chin, the eyes staring out from deep sockets, and waxy skin stretched so tight over his face that every bone was emphasised, like a living skull.

The moving, corpse-like figure in front of them, was Black - Sirius Black.

"Expelliarmus," he said in a hoarse voice, pointing with Ron's willow, and their wands flew out, Black catching them with his opposite hand.

"I thought you'd come and help your friend. Your father would have done the same for me," Black said, fixing his gaze upon Harry. "Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful...it will make everything much easier..." he said.

Harry started forward again, rage and hatred written in every angle, every corner of his face, but Lia caught his arm once more. "No," she whispered. "You can't. Think, you idiot! We're all disarmed and he won't hesitate to hurt you if you strike now."

"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us too!" Ron said, trying to appear brave and fierce.

"No. Only one will die tonight," Black's face darkened even more, a mad glint shining from his eyes.

"Then it'll be you!" Harry yelled, lurching out of Lia's grasp, "YOU KILLED MY MUM AND DAD!"

"Harry!" Hermione whimpered. "Be quiet! Don't!"

But it was too late, her brother had flung himself onto Black, knocking him backwards into the wall, he raised an angry fist, but the murderer grabbed onto Harry's throat.

"No," Black hissed. "I've waited too long -"

Harry tried again, yelling in rage, but Crookshanks buried deep claws into his arm, and the boy knocked the cat away, scrambling for the wand that Black had dropped to the floor.

He pointed it at Sirius. Directed it at his heart.

Black did not appear frightened, and instead his lips twitched upwards into a bitter sort of smile. "Going to kill me, Harry?" he whispered.

"Yes."

Lia's eyes widened in shock. She knew that Black was a murderer, a cold-hearted traitor, but her brother was kind, and kind as he was, he could never live with himself if he was responsible for the death of another human being.

Killing was like that, like drinking to the point of intoxication – easy and surprisingly simple in the heat of the moment, but a torment to cope with once your mind was clear.

Harry raised his wand with shaking hands, right as the door crashed open and Professor Lupin burst in, with a shout of "Expelliarmus." The wand sailed into his outstretched hands.

Lupin's expression was unreadable and he finally said, after a long pause, "Where is he, Sirius?"

"Who?" the word burst from Lia's mouth.

Black raised a passive hand to Ron, and the two men exchanged a searching look.

"But then … How? … You switched," Lupin whispered, the fog drifting from his eyes. "You switched without telling me?"

Black nodded. Lupin choked, and flew forwards, pulling Sirius to his feet, and embracing him as if they were brothers.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" Hermione exploded. "You – you –"

"Hermione, listen to me, please!"

"I didn't tell anyone!" she shrieked. "I trusted you! I covered up for you. And all this time you've been his friend!" She pointed at Sirius, her eyes frenzied. "He's a werewolf! That's why he's been missing classes!"

Lia gasped. A werewolf? A werewolf? But it made sense … the boggart, the potions, the illness, the unexplained absences.

"How long have you known?"

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since Snape set the essay."

"You're the brightest witch of your age I've ever met," said Lupin, forcing a laugh.

"Yes," said Black, his voice impatient. "You glow like the sun. And you howl at the moon. Enough talk! He dies. Now. If you won't do it with me, Remus, I'll do it alone."

"Wait Sirius." Lupin walked over to Ron. "Do you think I could have a look at the rat?"

"What?" he said. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything. Can I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated, but shoved a hand into his robe pocket and drew out the struggling Scabbers. Lupin moved closer and examined the rat with cautious eyes.

"What? What's Scabbers got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," Black said darkly, his face set in a hateful scowl.

"What'd you mean he's not a rat. Scabbers has been in my family for –"

"Twelve years. A curiously long time for a common garden rat."

"He's not a rat," Lupin said, his face grave. "He's a wizard."

"An Animagus," said Black, "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

"You must be crazy," Lia whispered, backing away. "Crazy."

There was a sudden crash, as the door was flung open again. Snape stood in the hallway, with a smug smile, ripping off Harry's Invisibility Cloak. "Expelliarmus!" The wands that Sirius and Lupin held in their hands spun away.

"You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here? You forgot your potion tonight, and I came to pass it to you, but I saw a certain map on your desk. It told me where you were, where you were going."

"Severus –"

"I told Dumbledore you were helping your old friend into the castle. And here's the proof."

The minutes ticked past, furious words bursting from Snape and Black's mouths, as Lupin desperately tried to convince the potions master of Sirius' innocence. "Give me a reason," Snape spat out, pointing his wand at Black's neck. "I beg you."

When Snape was about to drag the other two men out of the door, Harry crossed the room and blocked the pathway out. Snape was incensed and he roared at the boy, spittle flying from his mouth, while Harry grew angrier and angrier, he spat out a retort.

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT!" Snape shrieked, he looked madder than ever. "Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black - now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

All four of them yelled out, "Expelliarmus," and Snape slammed into the wall, knocked into unconsciousness. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Lia had tried to disarm him at the same time.

"Now," said Lupin. "Ron, give me that rat."

As Lupin and Sirius blasted a spell at the struggling Scabbers, there was a burst of light, and the rat began to grow, shooting upwards like a growing tree, head sprouting out from the top, limbs stretching from the sides – in mere seconds, a man stood straight where Scabbers had been.

Peter Pettigrew.

'Sirius – it's me … it's Peter … your friend … you wouldn't –" He turned to Lia. "Sweet girl … I knew your mother … a follower of the Dark Lord … but so kind … so kind … like her daughter."

Lia frowned and resisted the urge to kick him in the face. "Don't lie to me, you fucking rat man!" she hissed.

Pettigrew cowed back and spoke to Harry. "Harry … Harry … you look just like your father … just like him … "

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" Black's voice was a roar. "HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"You should have realized," said Lupin quietly, "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would. Good-bye, Peter."

"No!" Harry said.

"Harry, this man … "

"I know what he is. But we'll take him to the castle. After that, the dementors can have him."

The group stepped out of the tunnel, the night sky littered with sparkling stars, the full moon hanging down like a silver orb. Snape trailed behind them, levitated and drifting along through magic, his head slumped down, emotionless like a zombie.

As they came into contact with the moonlight, Lupin began to shake.

"Oh no," Hermione gasped. "He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!"

"Run," Black yelled. "Run! Now!"

Lupin's fell to his knees, his fingers spread out along the ground, taloned and veined, his back was bowed into a curve, trembling vigorously, digging in dents into the dirt ground. He snarled. Dark hairs were beginning to sprout from his body, and his mouth morphed into a snout.

"LEAVE!" Black hollered. "I'LL DEAL WITH HIM. LEAVE!"

The werewolf whipped its head around to the direction of the sound. It growled again, and leapt forwards, its eyes locked upon Harry, clawed paws reaching forward to swipe him.

Without thinking, Lia pushed her brother to the floor, and the werewolf lashed out across her chest.

She screamed.

The wolf snarled and drew its jagged teeth towards her head, opening the jaw as it prepared to bite into her flesh. Moments before he dug in, there was a flash of black fur, and Sirius pinned the gnawing wolf to the ground.

"Lia!" Harry yelled.

Blood was blossoming over her robes. She pressed a shaking hand to her breastbone, her fingers were stained with red. "I'm alright," she muttered, and pointed her hand. "Pettigrew! He's getting away!"

The short man had escaped in the chaos that had ensued after Lupin's transformation, breaking loose from his chains with his Animagus form, and was now rushing deep into the woods. The werewolf pricked its ears up as another growl came from the depth of the forest and headed away in the opposite direction. Sirius, still shape shifted as a dog, ran after the rat, now that the danger had passed.

After a minute, there was the sound of a dog whining, a dog in pain.

"Sirius."

Lia followed as Harry and Hermione set off to the lake, pelting towards the shore, and she ignored the fluid that was now coating her chest and the blistering pain of the wound. She felt her face prick with cold, the fine hairs on her arms standing up, and an unsettling feeling swept through her body.

Dementors.

At least a hundred were gliding towards them, like a black fog that floated closer with the wind. She tried to say the words, say the incantation, but nothing flew from her wand, she was paralysed by the ice that was coating her skin, layer by layer, drop by drop.

She opened her mouth, but nothing except bitter cold came out. The last thing she saw, before the world grew dark, was a brilliant, shining animal galloping towards them, the dementors flinching away from the light.

She collapsed, a bloody heap on the ground, a pool of red liquid flowing around her.

* * *

A/N:

Hi everyone!

I just wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who left reviews, it's great to hear that you liked the story and criticism is also good for inspiring me to improve my writing.

You are all soooo kind for taking the extra time to leave me a comment, it just motivates me to write so much!

Thanks once again! You're all amazing :)

\- Annie


	27. Scars and Trains (Year 3)

Lia stood in front of the the full-length mirror that she had positioned upright in the bathroom, the glass newly polished, and the ornate wood carvings around it sharp and intricate. She gently undid the top button of her robe, lightly pulling it open so that the creamy pale skin at her chest was visible.

She swallowed, and let her eyes drift up.

It was ugly - a ragged scar, around eight inches long, that stretched from the hollow at her left collarbone to just above her right breast. The skin was still slightly puckered and swollen, although the numbing and anti-inflammation potions that Madam Pomfrey had given to her had done much help. She ran a finger over the ridges, wincing as she touched a particularly tender spot.

It was ugly. But it wasn't as bad as she'd thought. She forced her lips to curl up into a shaky smile. It was just a mark. At least they had all survived, and her soul hadn't become a Dementor's dinner.

"A werewolf scar," Madam Pomfrey had said, shaking her head, "That sort of damage, I'm afraid I can't cure. The redness will fade in time, but the mark will be there, perhaps permanently by the looks of it."

After the incident, Professor Lupin had not been able to meet her eyes at all. "Lia," he'd choked out, guilt and shame written in every nook and cranny, "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't –"

"Don't worry, Professor," she'd said. "It wasn't your fault. You wouldn't blame someone under the Imperius curse would you? It's same old. Besides," she'd smiled and pointed to her upper arm, "I already have a scar, so it won't make much difference … I can start collecting them now, you know? Like collector's items! Bet this one would be considered rare."

He'd choked and shook his head. "I'm resigning, Lia."

"Professor, no! But-but you're the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher I've had! Not that there was much competition with Quirrell and Lockhart, but still! Why?"

Lupin had smiled wryly. "This time tomorrow, the owls will start arriving from parents... They will not want a werewolf teaching their children. And after last night, I see their point. I gave you a permanent scar, in all likelihood … and if Sirius had not intervened, I may have bitten any of you ... That must never happen again."

Lia still wasn't entirely sure how Harry and Hermione had managed to save both Buckbeak and Sirius. Her brain had still been muddled and hazy from the pain potion the nurse had given her, and she'd struggled to understand their words.

The explanation they'd told her went briefly like this in Lia's mind: they'd used a time-turner to go backwards to the past, had somehow managed to coax Buckbeak into the woods with dead ferrets or something of the like, Harry had used a patronus on the Dementors before it could suck the life out of them, and then Sirius had flown away on the back of the Hippogriff towards Neverland.

Her head hurt.

She fastened up her robes again, and opened the door of the bathroom, before she faltered and turned her head round once more to stare at the mirror. The red scratch was glaringly obvious on her pale skin, the harsh edge visible above the collar of her robe. She sighed.

She didn't mind the blemish _that_ much, but it would do her head in to have everyone goggling it, like she was some scarred freak show. Lia wasn't sure how Harry coped with the attention - if it were her, she probably would have gone ahead and cursed the lot of them by now.

But … what could she use to hide it? Makeup? A charm? But it was early in the morning, and Lia wasn't sure if she could manage to make it look decent. Instead, she looped a green scarf around her neck, closed the door and left her dormitory.

"Lia," Malfoy's voice came out of nowhere.

"Don't scare me!" she snapped.

He held his hands up, and made a swiping gesture in the air. "Calm down. I just wanted to talk."

"About what, Malfoy?"

"I thought you were calling me Draco now?" He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed. "I don't know how you're going to react to this …"

"Spit it out."

There was a long pause as Malfoy looked at the ground, his eyes distant.

"Are you lost in thought? You should be careful … it must be unfamiliar territory. And you don't want to sprain your brain now, do you?"

"My father," he took in a deep breath. "He wanted to know if … if you would like to have a … gathering, in the holidays."

"A gathering?" she snorted. "Where?"

"My house, of course."

"Why?"

"He wants to …" he seemed to be holding back a grimace, "… get to know you."

"Get to know me?" she said blankly.

Malfoy nodded. "That's what he wrote in the letter he sent on Wednesday."

"Is this a joke? Why?" Lia gasped. "This is some sly trick, so that you can capture me and use me as bait for Harry, isn't it!"

"No! It's just … he just … finds you interesting?" It sounded almost like he was asking a question.

"Interesting?" Lia scoffed. "Yeah right."

"Come."

"I'm not really looking to get kidnapped, thanks."

"You won't." Malfoy was growing more desperate by the second.

"Frankly, I don't trust the shit that comes out of your mouth."

"Look!" he suddenly raised his voice, his eyes almost frantic now. "I need you to fucking come, alright! Why can't you ever understand anything? I-I …" he trailed off.

"Then make me understand. Why? Why do you need me to come?"

"Because my father said so!" The words burst out of his mouth and Malfoy clenched his fists, averting his eyes. There was something lost in the way he glanced out the window.

"Lucius isn't the boss of the world … He's not that bloody high and mighty."

"He's my father. That makes him _my_ boss."

"No it doesn't," she frowned. "There's this silly little thing called free-will, you know?"

"I suppose you wouldn't understand," he snorted. "You're an orphan."

"That's a dick thing to say to someone."

"Just come … It'll only be one afternoon."

She groaned, desperately telling herself to not look at Malfoy's pleading face. It was really throwing her off. "I can't even get there. I'm too young to Apparate remember? And I really don't think the Dursleys would fancy driving me there."

"Come after we arrive at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. My father will be waiting for us."

"And how do I get back? Walk for two hundred kilometres?"

"Mother can Apparate you."

"This is stupid," she muttered, "I can't believe I'm even discussing this. I have places to go, better people to talk to."

She made an attempt to walk forwards, but Malfoy stepped to the side, his body blocking hers. She thumped a fist against his chest.

"Move."

"No."

"Move!"

"Lia, is it that hard to agree?" he paused. "If I only ever ask you for one thing in my life, this is it."

"And what am I supposed to tell Harry?"

"Tell him that you're meeting up with Tracey. It'll only be for a few hours, and you two are roommates after all."

"I'm not going to lie to my brother for you."

"You still don't understand. Lucius gave me an order. Orders are like taking the Unbreakable Vow to him."

"Why are you so obsessed with this?"

"I'm not obsessed. My father is."

"I just … can't he focus his attention on Parkinson again?"

He shook his head and sighed. She couldn't read the expression on his face, but it looked as if there was a hint of self-reproach. Lia absent-mindedly played with her hair, and tried to undo some of the mats that had shot up again.

"If you do this," Malfoy said, "I'll go on one of those pointless muggle trips with you. Didn't you say that you always wanted to go skydiving?"

"…. Wait, actually? We're too young for skydiving." Lia's eyes lit up. "What about laser tag?"

He swallowed. "Fine. Is it a deal?"

Lia's mind whirled. If Malfoy would actually come with her, on a 'pointless muggle trip' as he put it, then she'd definitely be much further ahead with the gamble they'd made. Perhaps then he'd see that the muggle world wasn't all that bad, that there were multiple aspects of it that were positive, progressive even. Ideas were already springing up about what favour she could ask for when she won the bet. Maybe she could get him to do all her potions homework for a year?

But if she said yes, that would mean a painfully uncomfortable afternoon with Malfoy, and his nasty mummy and daddy.

"I don't know," she said finally. "Lucius doesn't like me. What if he's rude and I start punching him again?"

"Trust me. He'll be polite." His face was still indecipherable.

"I'll … consider it."

"We're leaving in about two hours!" he barked out. "Do you want me to get on my knees and beg you? For god sake, it's just a quick chat with my parents! And then, you can go back to your boring existence with your filthy muggle aunt and uncle!"

He glared at her and Lia glared back. Slowly, Malfoy thawed a little. "Please, Lia," he said softly, "I won't get on my knees. But I am pleading, alright?" He turned molten silver eyes at Lia.

She thought that her mind must have stopped working for the billionth time ever, because she found that she could no longer think anymore. That silver was slinking into her thoughts, turning her brain into disgusting mush.

"… Okay," she replied in the end, "I'll go. But if you back out of your end of the bargain, you're going to die in your sleep … and don't smirk at me, Malfoy! I'm not kidding."

"Good," he said, still smirking. "I knew you'd cave." He turned around and walked out of the dormitory, leaving her standing there with her fists closed into a tight ball.

* * *

Lia walked down the aisles of the Hogwarts Express, peeking her head into compartments, searching until she eventually found Harry, Ron and Hermione, sitting towards the back of the train. She gave them a small wave of hello, and slid down unto the leather seat.

"I've been thinking," said Ron, "You three have got to come and stay with us these holidays. I'll fix it up with Mum and Dad, then I'll call you. I know how to use a fellytone now –"

"A telephone, Ron," Hermione corrected. "Honestly you should take Muggle Studies next year ..."

He ignored her. "It's the Quidditch World Cup this summer! How about it? Come and stay, and we'll go and see it! Dad can usually get tickets from work."

Harry grinned. "Yeah! I bet the Dursleys'd be glad to let us come."

"They want us off their backs," said Lia. "Particularly since you turned Aunt Marge into an oversized balloon."

Harry suddenly squinted out the window, and Lia followed his line of sight. There was a tiny endearing owl, bobbing through the air with a letter held in its claws. Harry caught the owl in his hands as it slipped through the window, and picked up the letter.

"It's from Sirius!" he yelled. Lia pulled the parchment from his hands and read it:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._

 _Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

 _I believe the Dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

 _There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt_ _._ _Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

 _I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you and Lia that night last year when you both left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

 _I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

 _If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

 _I'll write again soon._

 _Sirius_

"So you were right, Hermione," Lia said. "He did send Harry that Firebolt." Whenever she stared at those words, something sad rose in her stomach, something that gripped her heart. It had always been her and Harry. They had been each other's only real family. And now Harry had Sirius.

"That's not all," said Ron, looking excited. "Sirius gave Harry permission to go to Hogsmeade!"

"Thank goodness," said Lia, shaking off her thoughts. "You can carry your own heavy load of lollies all the way back to the castle, then."

It wasn't long before the hooting train pulled into King's Cross Station, the layered brick walls and polished marble floors staring back at them again.

"Harry," Lia said, trying to find a delicate and cautious way to approach the topic, "I'm going to meet you at Pivet Drive, if that's okay? … Tracey's invited me out to lunch. I'll be back before the afternoon."

"Lunch? Today? But, how'll you get back?"

"Her mum can take me with Side-Along Apparition."

He looked a little uncertain, but said, "Well sure. I hope you have fun then. Bring me back some food?"

"Of course, darling brother."

"What should I tell Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia?"

"I've got a detention with one of my teachers, so I'm coming back late. They'll believe it. They love the idea of me suffering."

"Okay," Harry bit his lip and gave her a wave, as he picked up his luggage, "See you later, I guess."

She stood in the corner, leaning against one of the brick walls, watching as one by one her peers left, waiting until only a small group of dawdling families were left. Malfoy spotted her and walked over.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Not really," Lia replied. It was the truth.

She was still unsure as to why she had really agreed in the first place, and she still felt guilty for lying to her brother. Not that it was the first time she'd told an untruth, but yet, she felt as if this lie had been especially bad.

"Let's go then," said Malfoy, and he led her to the spot where his parents stood, two tall blond people who seemed much too perfect, much too refined for the simple train platform they stood on – their clothes ironed immaculately and their hair so perfect it could have been a Michelangelo carving. They would have been beautiful, seemingly perfect, were it not for the coldness that radiated out of their stance.

Lia sighed. She was not looking forward to this.

* * *

A/N:

Hello, again!

So, what you all think so far? Please review and let me know your opinions! If anyone has any suggestions or ideas for scenes they would love to see, feel free to let me know as well!

Thank you all for reading, and a big thank you to anyone who commented, favourited or followed! You're the best xx

\- Annie


	28. Sequel

Dear Readers,

For the sake of keeping this fanfiction easy to navigate, I've decided to split up my work into two books. I have posted the sequel on this account, called 'The Flame and the Shadow'. The title is definitely flexible though, and if you have any suggestions, I would love it if you let me know!

Hope you've enjoyed 'The Snake and the Dragon'! Thanks once again to everyone, and please review!

\- Annie


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